#ship: she likes sequins
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big time rush | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x albon!reader
so how is alex albon and sorority rush connected? how is lando involved? and will the grid ever understand the greek system?
[so, it's rush season, also known as my favourite time to be judgemental on social media (after the met gala of course), but like i have been bombarded with so much rush content and made a couple friends in the summer who go to alabama that my english ass needed to write something about it]
masterlist tips x
yourusername
liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 301,774 others
yourusername: it's the most wonderful time of the year !!! first year as president of theta 🩷
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user1: i get whiplash every time she posts back in america
user2: like??? how is that alex albon's sister
yourusername: we have the same mum and dad, hope this helps 👍
user3: okay yeah her and alex are the same people
alexalbon: posting this like you didn't BALL UR EYES OUT AT THE AIRPORT AGAIN
yourusername: i didn't cry because i was gonna miss ur ugly ass, i miss horsey and otto :(
albon_pets: we miss you too 🐈
user4: i personally love watching y/n's two personalities usa v uk she's like my batman
lilymunhe: don't have too much fun babe, remember to study too
yourusername: have some faith in me PLEASE
lilymunhe: i sat with you for a whole week individually rhinestoning shirts for work week i think i understand your priorities
yourusername: work week is very important lily and at least i know we'll all slay the diamonds are a girls best friend theme !!!!!
alexalbon: i'm still finding gems in all of my shoes and bags so they better
user5: i don't really understand sororities but you can bet i CHECK IN when it's y/n
user6: the way her brother is a whole ass f1 driver but she's more famous to me being the fucking PRESIDENT of theta at ALABAMA the girlies just don't get how big a deal that is
georgerussel63: any way we can get this rhinestone treatment for some merc merch
yourusername: if you wanted rhinestone merch you shouldn't have jumped ship from williams but thanks for the seat xoxo
georgerussell63: crikey can't a guy ask for sequins without being attacked these days
yourusername: all jokes georgie, but if you want rhinestones you'll have to rep theta
alexalbon
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 603,450 others
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alexalbon: enjoy your semester president, you're lucky i didn't get any photos of you ugly crying with horsey before you left. always love summer with you, even if you kept ditching us for your super secret boyfriend you thought we didn't know about ;)
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user7: the albons are so insane i love them
lilymunhe: you said we weren't gonna tell her to see how far she goes to cover it up !!!
alexalbon: this is so much more fun though i heard her scream from the other side of departures
yourusername: so i could've just used the front door rather than doing parkour out my window?
alexalbon: you going to fess up to who it is yet?
yourusername: no i don't think i will
lilymunhe: not even to me :(
yourusername: clearly you can't be trusted
lilymunhe: no babe it's not like that i swear
yourusername: i can't hear you i have a 12 hour flight
user8: the state of this comment section
user9: wait so y/n has a bf? i think i just heard the entirety of greek row fall to their knees
user10: like they had a chance babe
liked by yourusername and landonorris
landonorris: i've seen you cry your eyes out on face time to your cat
alexalbon: his name is horsey and it was a very emotional day
yourusername: you also face timed me crying with the pets that you missed me
alexalbon: stop ganging up on me this is my post and LANDO THIS IS FAMILY BUSINESS
landonorris: hmmmmm 🤨
f1wagsupdates
liked by user13, user14 and 3,205 others
f1wagsupdates: lando norris has flown into america a week early for the austin grand prix. lando flew into alabama and was reportedly picked up by a girl. is he off the market?
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user15: i’m sorry my little heart can’t take y/n and lando getting into relationships this year
user16: call me crazy but maybe lando and y/n are together?
user17: how did you come to this conclusion?
user16: so like when alex revealed he knew about y/n’s bf lando was weirdly all up in that comment section and now he's early to austin but flew into alabama where y/n goes to college and a brunette girl picked him up (also a healthy dose of delusion)
user18: no but why does this make sense though
user19: i once again implore you guys to understand that men and women can be friends, not all women in a 5 miles radius of a man is in love with him
user20: i would love for this to be y/n simply for the alex meltdown that'll follow
user21: he already said he's not overprotective just annoyed that he couldn't figure out who it is, so if it's one of his best friends i think he'll lose his mind
user22: imagine being a pledge and walking into the house to see LANDO NORRIS?
user23: trying to imagine lando of all people in sweet home alabama is killing me someone save my guy
yourusername
liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 359,0344 others
yourusername: first week of classes and i'm missing my cats
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user24: A MAN? i knew she had a man but that's. A MAN
albon_pets: we miss you too big sis, can't wait for thanksgiving
yourusername: have a nandos on me tonight babes xx
albon_pets: this is why you're our favourite sibling
alexalbon: i'm right here guys
user25: we've lost her to the soft launch
user26: literally like show me his face so i can stalk him
alexalbon: agreed
lilymunhe: pretty girl, we miss youuuuuu !! can't wait to see you in austin
yourusername: literally counting down the days
lilymunhe: will the mystery man be there?
yourusername: he may ...
alexalbon: i hope he's ready for the interrogation
landonorris: alex mate you're about as intimidating as a tumbleweed
alexalbon: you're in albon business an awful lot lately norris 🤨
user27: the alex meltdown is starting
landonorris
liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,302,778 others
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landonorris: two dummies, one car, and an attempt to get into the cota paddock
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user28: OMFG
yourusername: i can only drive stick, this is known. and so many fans, i didn't want to run anyone over
user29: it was a close call but you did nearly hit me, i appreciate the swerve
yourusername: MY BAD OMG as you can all tell, alex got all of the good driving genes in the family
landonorris: don't worry babe, i won't make you drive again
yourusername: thank you baby, i was born to be a passenger princess
alexalbon: BABE? BABY? PASSENGER PRINCESS? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?
yourusername: surprise?
alexalbon: you were doing parkour to see LANDO?
landonorris: i don't appreciate your tone alex i am a catch
yourusername: you are a catch
alexalbon: can a man not have a breakdown in peace anymore without you people flirting underneath it
lilymunhe: you guys are kinda cute, i'm seeing the vision
alexalbon: am i joke to you?
yourusername: alex please be happy for me, i'm so so happy with lando, he's the best for me
landonorris: i promise i love y/n, i won't hurt her
alexalbon: i know, but give me three business days to process and NO MCLAREN MERCH
yourusername
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tagged: landonorris, alexalbon
yourusername: lando on the podium and alex in the points, you know what that means? took my best boys to their first frat party (they didn't fare well)
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user32: the grid at a frat party is something i thought i'd never see
user33: waiting for old men to say that americans are ruining the sport
landonorris: why were people on the roof? why was i on the roof?
yourusername: lets not announce that baby, i don't want zak brown to sue me
landonorris: i'm never drinking again... you do this every weekend?
yourusername: you are literally an f1 driver, you have much harder weekends
landonorris: well at least after this i got cuddles
lilymunhe: based on how late you were to brunch, i guess it was a lot of cuddles
landonorris: i am clingy, let me live
yourusername: i like clingy lando don't worry baby
alexalbon: you need to drop out immediatelt that was terrifying
yourusername: LOL
alexalbon: why were they all so loud and why did they all insist on drinking upside down? this place is so unserious
yourusername: just say you miss me alex
alexalbon: fine, i miss you (also now we know about you and lando, he did nothing but complain about missing you the whole flight home)
user34: alex already sick of lando's shit they crack me up
landonorris
liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,023,400 others
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landonorris: cosplayed as a theta sister for the week with the love of my life
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user35: this is the cross over i could never see coming but am not angry about
user36: so does someone on the grid finally get the greek system?
landonorris: no ❤️
yourusername: the prettiest sister ever (anyone from the house ready this, he doesn't count don't worry)
landonorris: i am the prettiest sister regardless sorry not sorry
yourusername: they just warmed up to you :(
landonorris: they warmed up to me the minute i doordashed chipotle for the whole house
yourusername: true
landonorris: also miss president, why is that a full time job? i really don't get greek life
user37: the image of a whole house of sorority sisters and then just lando is so funny to me
user38: he's the president's bf so i doubt anyone had a real problem
yourusername: he's also unbelievable levels of girlypop
landonorris: it's my greatest asset
yourusername: i can think of another one ;)
alexalbon: HAVE SOME SHAME PEOPLE
yourusername: HIS PERSONALITY
landonorris: and something else ;)
alexalbon: STOP PLEASE OR I'LL REVOKE MY APPROVAL
user38: i need a relationship like this stat
user39: omg when y/n graduates i can't wait for her to be back with alex and lando full time ... the chaos will be crazy
note: please enjoy this little one!! gonna start going through any requests now xx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#lando norris insta au#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris
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Ace with the tailor reader part 2
A/N: @boomboom-tanjiro2019 it made me so happy when you requested a part 2. Here it is. I'm sorry it took me some time. Hope you'll enjoy this...
[ Part 1 ]
Everyone was so happy about Ace's arrival and threw a party to celebrate. They were talking and laughing so loudly when you went there after finishing your work. It was more lively than other days. Chopper was showing his chopstick dance to Ace, and he was laughing at it. Then Sanji came out of nowhere and served you a drink.
"Neeehhh~ Y/N-chwan! I brought you your favorite..."
"Thank you, Sanji-kun." You smiled and took the drink.
When you gave your attention back to Ace, he was already looking at you, resting his chin on his hand. A spark ran through your body, and your legs felt a little numb when you saw the way he was looking at you. A small smile curled in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were talking, looking deep into your soul. That moment was so intimidating; you felt time had stopped, and only two of you were in the room. You looked back into Ace's eyes with the same passion, subconsciously. Only a few seconds passed, but it felt like forever.
You snapped out of it when you heard Chopper screaming and yelling. Both of you immediately broke the eye contact and looked at him. You got relaxed for a moment when you saw it was nothing serious, just Luffy playing with Chopper.
But you didn't have the guts to look back at Ace again. You walked towards a seat in the corner, hoping no one else saw what happened between you and Ace.
(Actually, only Robin saw it. She giggled a little to herself and went back to reading her book.)
At night, you went to the spot on the ship where you loved to sit and draw new designs while enjoying the sea breeze. You kept thinking about what kind of outfit you could make for Ace. Even though you had so many ideas when you first met him, now you can't imagine him wearing anything other than his significant outfit—no top, just a short with some accessories.
You leaned back more comfortably and looked out at the calm sea. After a few minutes passed, you let out a huge sigh and opened your sketch book. You felt the presence of someone, so you lifted your head up and looked. You saw Ace watching you, leaning over the railing.
"How long have you been there?"
"Not so long," Ace said, slowly walking towards you. "So... what are you doing there?"
"Nothing special. Just... trying to design some new clothes, I guess..."
"Can I see?"
He was really interested in it. So you showed him your designs and explained them to him. You had no one to talk to about this before. So you enjoyed telling him everything. You talked his ears off. Ace also enjoyed listening to your ramblings. He shared his thoughts about them too... You two became more comfortable with each other.
"I don't like this one."
"Whaaaaaaat?? That is one of my favorites."
"But it's too plain."
"That makes it more elegant."
"Add some sequins or something."
"Nope. Not gonna happen. This is perfect."
Ace gave you a pouty face. He sat down on the floor and started to mutter to himself.
"Oh, come on, Ace~" You also went and sat down next to him. "Fine, I will design a new dress the way you want. So leave that one alone. Okay?"
He stayed pouty.
"Okay?" You peaked to see his face. "Hmm?"
He kept hiding his face from you.
You signed and gave up on pestering him. You leaned on your back and looked up at the sky.
...
"Why do you care about it anyway? Do you want it for your girlfriend or something?"
"What? No!! I don't have anyone!!! It's just..." He blushed and looked away. "I thought it would... look good on you that way."
"Maybe... maybe that plain one, that one you called elegent, or something is also... look good on you."
He gave you a quick look, checked what you were wearing, and looked away again. "That one also looks good on you.."
Ace was so flustered. "Anything looks good on you." He was really a flustered mess.
You tried your best not to laugh. You wondered where that cool and firm Ace had gone. But you loved this side of him more.
You slowly put your head on his shoulder and whisper, "I think anything looks good on you too."
He slowly tilted his head and looked at you. You smiled at him. He blushed and looked away. You couldn't help but chuckle.
You had no idea how you got the confidence to act like this, taking the lea and all. But somehow, you could.
"Let's go" You pulled him by his hand and started walking.
"Where are we going?" Ace let you pull him and followed you.
"You are my new and first fashion model. I'm gonna make you the best outfit ever. (Y/N)'s designs, special edition, one and only, only for you, Ace collection, first outfit."
Both of you chuckled and walked to your sewing room, holding hands and swinging them back and forth.
Masterlist
#Sorry if you felt cringy while reading this 😂#i have my final exams in a month and my head is a mess#Thank you for reading#one piece x reader#ace x reader#portgas d. ace x reader#portgas d ace#portgas d ace x reader#portgas d. ace#one piece#op#one piece x you
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Comet Donati [Chapter 3: Steal My Girl]
A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thank you so so so much for the love this fic has received. I wanted to give you a heads up that I will be co-leading a field trip to Japan from July 4th-14th and will therefore have much less time to write. HOPEFULLY I won’t have to skip a Sunday update, but I wanted to make you aware just in case. I hope you enjoy Chapter 3!!! 💜
Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.
Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, Aegon-induced chaos, ANGST, Iceland, you cannot escape the Cookie Monster pajama pants.
Selected Chapter Quote: “So what, you don’t like me anymore?”
Word count: 8.3k (wtf I need to chill).
Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.
Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07
Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜
Athens, Madrid, Porto, Vienna, Stockholm, and now: descending into Reykjavik through clouds like iron. The North Atlantic is an endless sheen of cold overcast blue, a mirror of the sky. The earth is rocky and anemic. There are no jewel tones here, no sapphires or emeralds or aquamarines or fire opals or topazes. It is impossible to look down at Iceland, this dominion of impassionate jaggedness, and not think of how the Vikings had to reap their treasures from every other corner of Europe, silver and gold and glass and slaves piled into ships to be rowed back to the hostile earth they clung to, perhaps just to prove they could.
Across the aisle of the private jet—more like a penthouse than a plane, posh neutral colors and hand-stitched leather—Luke is showing Aemond his latest lyrics, loops of silver on matte black pages. They’re good, from what you’ve heard. They’re really good. And that tells you what kind of person Aemond truly is as he helps Luke polish rocks into gemstones. Anybody can soften the blow of mediocrity. It takes courage to build ladders for people who might one day outclimb you.
Daeron is playing his Nintendo 64, which is hooked up to a 98-inch flat screen tv; Mario is leaping through paintings into worlds of lava, ice, sentient ticking bombs. Criston is answering emails. Cregan is sprawled across a couch with his sunglasses on, presumably sound asleep. Jace is leering at you, dark hair hanging in his face and slurping a Vesper.
You ask him half-mocking: “What tattoo are you going to get for Reykjavik?”
He yanks off his sequined red blazer—nothing underneath, as usual—and twists around to show you the puffin on his left shoulder blade. Comet, at some point in time that preceded you, has already been to Iceland. “Cute, right? Wanna pet it?”
You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry I asked.”
He grins. “No you’re not.”
Aegon kicks the back of Jace’s chair. He’s scribbling some notes of his own, which is unusual. In place of a spiral notebook with onyx pages, Aegon is writing on crinkled Starbucks receipts with a Sharpie. He’s wearing his favorite aviator sunglasses, khaki cargo pants, an excessively bright cyan tank top, and matching Crocs.
Baela stares blankly out the window for a few seconds—like she’s buffering, a lagging connection—and then she looks to you hopefully. “Shopping when we land?”
“Does Iceland have shops…?”
“Probably more than Kansas,” Aemond says, then smiles mischieviously.
“Missouri,” you fling back. He returns his attention to Luke.
“They totally have shops in Iceland,” Baela assures you.
“Then I am amenable. I need more concert outfits.” You mostly wear your boy band t-shirts from home, which has become a joke: One Direction, Backstreet Boys, New Kids On The Block, NSYNC, the Jonas Brothers, Boyz II Men, 98 Degrees, BTS…but never Comet Donati. Anyone but them. Aegon calls you a traitor. Aemond teases, smirks, tries to hide how much he watches you the same way people contemplate art on museum walls, a little confounded, a little entranced.
“Rhaena?” Baela says. “Hello? Hello? Hola? Bonjour? Rhaena?”
Rhaena startles, peering up from her novel: Jurassic Park. Once upon a time, as you’ve learned, she had planned to study paleontology. She wants to be alone in the middle of a field someplace digging up bones. Well, no great tragedy there; one is never too old to be a paleontologist. She can take off five years, or ten years, or twenty, or thirty to see Luke through his touring days and then pick back up her own ambitions like keys left on a hook. But Baela gave up a ballet scholarship to follow Jace across the globe, puddle to puddle, land to land, and in your albeit limited understanding, ballerinas age in something like dog years. Their career is a brilliant, lightning-brief flash and then long, anonymous decades running out their mortal clock as choreographers, backup dancers, personal trainers, instructors for blue-blooded five-year-olds. Baela won’t be able to reclaim that dream for much longer. It might be too late already. She is out of practice; but she misses ballet. When Jace is being snide or oblivious, you’ve seen her gazing out windows—Escalades, hotels, jets—wondering if it was all worth it. You gut yourself for someone and they don’t even have the courtesy to put up a gravestone. It’s only natural to develop a propensity to haunt.
“What?” Rhaena asks.
“Shopping. This afternoon. Interested?”
Rhaena’s eyes go wide. She fidgets: closing and then opening her book, touching a hand to her earrings, delicate strings of small silver hearts. “Um…I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Oh, not this again,” Baela groans.
“Just go without me. Bring me back something, you know what I like.”
“What’s the problem?” You are investigative but not accusatory. The tone is essential.
“She’s scared of store employees,” Baela says.
“Well you don’t have to make it sound like that—!”
“What’s so scary about store employees?” you ask Rhaena, calm, cool, collected, nonjudgmental. Aemond glances over, as he often does when you’re working, like he can’t get enough of watching that switch flip, when you slink covertly into therapist mode like a water moccasin weaves through swamps, subtle ripples in the muddied water and vigilant eyes.
“I just hate it when people are watching me,” Rhaena says, twirling an earring. “They’re always waiting right by the door—especially at the posh places like the ones Baela goes to—and they want to know what I’m shopping for, and they want to make suggestions, and they follow me to the fitting room and ask what I like and what I don’t. And I can’t get rid of them! Even if I’m like ‘Just looking, thanks!’ they’ll circle back every five minutes to check on me. I can’t stand it. I get so frazzled I can’t decide how I really feel about a skirt or dress or whatever because I’m too busy trying to make conversation with someone I don’t want to talk to anyway. I end up with a headache and a shopping bag full of regrets. I’d rather click a button on my MacBook Air and save myself the suffering.”
You nod sagely. “What is it about talking to the employees that stresses you out so much?”
“I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing. I don’t want to cause problems.”
“But it’s not like you’re going to do anything they haven’t experienced before. They see hundreds, maybe even thousands of customers a month. And even if you did something ridiculously, dementedly embarrassing, like…um…hey, Aegon, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done while clothes shopping?”
“I fell asleep in a fitting room. I pissed on the floor. I set something on fire. I vandalized One Direction merchandise.”
“No, there was that other time,” Daeron says. Mario is swimming through rings of underwater coins; they chime gleefully as he collects them.
“What other time?” Aegon says.
Daeron grins. “Come on. You know.”
Aegon remembers. “Oh yeah. Once I bit a girl’s feet until I accidentally ripped off part of a toenail and she bled everywhere. But that wasn’t my fault. She was begging for it. It was consensual.”
Criston, not looking away from his emails, says: “And that’s why Aegon is now banned from all Michael Kors locations for life.”
“Right.” You turn back to Rhaena. “So you would never do anything that deranged. But even if somehow you did, what’s the actual worst-case scenario? What, realistically, could happen as a result?”
Rhaena considers this. “The employees will think I’m weird, I guess.”
“So what you’re so concerned about is that the store employees—who are literally paid to be inconvenienced by you—might think you’re weird? Which they’ll remember for, what, maybe an hour before some other customer gives them a more memorable calamity to focus on? You don’t think they’re more annoyed by purse-dog-toting heiresses screeching at them or cokeheads pissing on their floors?”
“Rude,” Aegon says.
Rhaena smiles guiltily. “I mean, when you put it that way, it does sound stupid.”
“Not stupid,” you insist. “Just out of proportion.”
“Okay,” Rhaena says. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Okay. I guess I’ll go shopping.”
“Yes!” Baela cheers, already scrolling through Reykjavik shops on her iPhone.
“Hey, Stargirl,” Aegon says, and then hurls something at you like a frisbee. It’s an Amex Black Card.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s my budget?”
“No budget. As long as it’s slutty.”
“I will buy nothing but cardigans and mom jeans.” You crane your neck to peek at his receipts. The black Sharpie squiggles aren’t words; they’re shapes, pictures. “What are you drawing?”
“New merch designs!” Aegon holds up the receipts so you can see.
“Circles…?”
He is somewhat wounded. “Donuts!”
You don’t even know where to begin. “Why donuts, Aegon?”
“Because that’s his code word for doing lines in the bathroom,” Criston says.
“No!” Aegon objects. “Because Donati sounds like donuts! So we could have all these mini donuts, print them on hats or shirts or whatever, and then in the frosting where the sprinkles would be we can put tiny stars, suns, moons, planets, galaxies…and comets, obviously.”
Jace scoffs. “I think you spend a little too much time thinking about donuts.”
Aegon goes quiet. So does everyone else. Gazes flit nervously around the cabin. The only sounds are the roar of the jet and Mario 64, although Daeron has turned his back on the cheerful Italian protagonist and is looking pensively over his shoulder at Jace. Aegon resumes sketching his cosmic Sharpie donuts, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Hey,” you say to Jace, and then once you have his attention, wicked dark eyes: “Shut the fuck up.”
“What?”
“It’s a great idea. It’s a really adorable idea, actually. Let’s see you come up with something better. Go on, whenever you’re ready. I’m waiting. I’m still waiting. But you’re not much of an ideas guy, are you, Jace? Fortunately, you’ve always had other people around to pull that weight.”
Jace opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut as Cregan stands up. He towers over you both, as tall as Aemond but more muscly all over, in the chest and the shoulders and the legs. He lowers his sunglasses to show his eyes: greyish, cold, flinty. He glares at Jace, and then at you, and then at Jace again. Jace holds up both hands, showing his palms. You bow your head in capitulation. Cregan lies back down on the couch and repositions his sunglasses just as the pilot turns on the fasten seatbelts signs. As you click yours into place, you exchange a glance with Aemond across the aisle. He is smiling, foxlike and approving, as if he can’t wait to see what else you have left to show him.
“So!” Baela says. “Guess who found a shop in Reykjavik that sells Gucci!”
The jet glides through mist and fog to make a rather bumpy landing at Keflavik International Airport, fighting against gusts of wind coming in off the North Atlantic Ocean, the same water that swallowed the Titanic, the Faucett Peru Boeing 727, the Free Life hot air balloon, whaling vessels and Viking longships, countless cruisers and destroyers and submarines that blasted holes into each other during the world wars. As the band prepares to disembark, Aemond reaches into the front pocket of his shirt—black, with white circling koi fish—and slides out a pair of sunglasses. He doesn’t like wearing them. They limit his vision even more than it already is. But he never walks into an airport without sunglasses on, you’ve discovered. Just in case paparazzi are there snapping photos.
“You don’t have to do that,” you tell Aemond.
He gestures to his scar and his blind eye, a pale cloudy blue. “I’ve thought about just getting it cut out. But then I’d have to worry about shoving in a fake one.”
“I think it’s kind of beautiful,” you say. “It reminds me of Neptune or something.”
And the look he gives you, the look, like he’s never heard anything like this before, like he didn’t know that words could fit together in that order. You hold out your hand to him. He lays the sunglasses in your palm. You put them on, grinning up at him.
“Now I’m the one who looks like a multi-millionaire popstar.”
“Hey, we match!” Aegon says as he follows you and Aemond out of the jet, massaging your shoulders and clopping noisily in his Crocs.
There are paparazzi at the airport, but only two of them, young men in black hoodies who dart around loosing flashes into the stuffy, aggressively heated air. Jace, Baela, Daeron, and Aegon beam and wave, radiant, magnetic, born celebrities. Rhaena smiles politely but hides behind Luke. Cregan saunters and smolders, knowing exactly what his devotees expect from him. Criston and the security guards are loaded up with suitcases like pack mules. The paparazzi don’t pay much attention to Aemond—a former heartthrob, a cracked relic, a fossil or a ruin—but one of them snaps a few pictures of him. Aemond turns his face so they’ll get his good side, his unmarred side…and then he grabs for your hand. You try not to reveal how ecstatic you are, how wildly, uncoolly, over-the-moon thrilled. Your expression might end up commemorated forever in a tabloid, after all.
Shopping in Reykjavik is mostly wool sweaters, hiking boots, and weather-proof jackets, but Baela leads you and Rhaena to a boutique that carries something more her speed: Gucci, Burberry, Balenciaga, Valentino, Saint Laurent. You and Baela try to distract the employees as much as possible; still, they find time to nettle Rhaena with those bothersome, predictable, unnecessary questions. She gets a little flustered, but she fights the instinct to run and hide, to allow herself to sink into a frenetic puddle of self-inquisition. You can almost see the words scrolling behind her dark gentle eyes like a news ticker: They get paid to help me. They aren’t going to remember any of this in a few hours. I’m not on a stage. I’m not being judged.
In the fitting room, you take two selfies to send to Aemond’s WhatsApp account: one in a flowing neon yellow gown, the other in a short, velvet, sparkly black dress embroidered with silver stars.
You ask: Day or night?
He answers before you’ve changed back into your jeans and pink Harry Styles hoodie. Night, obviously. And then he adds: Which constellation are you? Vulpecula the fox? Cygnus the swan?
“God, he’s such a dork,” you murmur to yourself, smiling. You have to think for a while before you reply. You don’t know many constellations; that makes it difficult to rattle off something witty. Then you are inspired. You type: Definitely not Virgo :)
He responds immediately: :)))))
“What does that mean?” you whisper to yourself in the solitude of the boxlike fitting room. “What the hell does that mean???” He spends nearly all of his time with you, but he rarely touches you. He’s never made a move. He’s never even kissed you. You wouldn’t mind if he did. No, fuck the coyness that women are supposed to cloak themselves in to preserve their worth. You’re waiting for him to kiss you like someone drowning waits for a gasp of air.
Despite Aemond’s vote, you can’t help yourself. You buy both dresses. You don’t look much like an Aegon Targaryen, but the cashier doesn’t seem too troubled by this. Baela and Rhaena are still trying on outfits, so you swing your bag around boredly and wander over to see what Criston is up to. At Aemond’s insistence, he accompanied you on this shopping expedition and left the rest of the security detail back at the Reykjavik EDITION, a luxury hotel overlooking the harbor. Criston is in the jewelry section and holding up a medallion necklace, rotating it to see how the light reflects off the speckling of tiny gemstones, the wise golden face. His own face is distant and melancholy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Criston!” you say. “All those emeralds. Who’s pictured on it?”
“Saint Jude. Lost causes.”
Interesting. “Are you religious?”
“Not especially. But Alicent is.”
“Who…?”
Criston walks off to the cash register. You watch him go, curious and perplexed.
Back at the hotel, you enter your suite to find a blond Targaryen lounging in your bed…but perhaps not the right one. Aegon still has his Crocs on and is, for some reason, clutching a plushie puffin. He glances over at you, noting your shopping bag.
“Fashion show?” he says. “I hope it’s nothing but miniskirts and bikinis.”
“Don’t you have places to be? Substances to snort?”
“Cregan is currently trying to locate some.”
“That’s really not good for you. Physically or mentally. You might be addicted.”
He barks a laugh, like it’s absurd. “You can’t get addicted to coke, Stargirl.”
“You definitely can.”
He suddenly looks panicked, like he’s never considered this before.
“So.” You hesitate. “Aemond.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept.”
“He’s insecure. Very insecure, though he’s learned how to hide it.”
Aegon throws and catches the puffin, bouncing it off the ceiling. “I wouldn’t disagree.”
“It goes deeper than the accident, I think. The scar, his eye, what happened with the band…that awakened it again. That freed something that he’d had locked away. But where did it start?”
Aegon stares up at the ceiling. He tosses the puffin a few more times, abusing it terribly. “Whoever you are when you’re in high school…that’s sort of who you are forever, you know? If you’re popular and beloved and understood, you carry a certain self-confidence into the rest of your life with you like a suitcase. It’s an assumption that people care about what you have to say. It’s a conviction of your own value. It’s a presupposition the world would have to wrestle away from you. But if you’re a loser in high school, that stays with you too. And it’s one hell of a heavy suitcase to lug around.”
You try to imagine seeing Aemond through eyes that aren’t awed, craving, quietly adoring. It’s simply not possible. “He was alone?” you ask softly, dreading the answer.
“I had friends. He had grudges.” Aegon’s mouth twists as he tries to stop it from trembling. “My father…”
“I know, Aegon.” Your voice is gentle. “You told me in Kansas City, that night at the bar. You don’t have to say it again.”
He is relieved. “Yeah. So people respond to that in different ways, right? I lived in the present. I talked to anybody who would listen to me, and I partied and I got high and I got laid, and I was the antithesis of the kind of son my father would have wanted just to spite him. Aemond escaped into the past. He read books, traced bloodlines, collected old obsolete things. Maybe that gave him hope that a better place was waiting for him out there somewhere, a better time. He got to be cool for three years. That’s it, and that’s all he’ll ever have. He was the one with vision. He said he was going to audition for The X Factor, and I only went with him to meet girls. Then he made it through the first round and I did too. And when they were going to cut us, he found Jace and Luke and Cregan and convinced everyone to start performing together. The show wanted to replace Luke, did you know that? They thought he was too boyish, too innocent. Aemond fought for him. And then Comet finished in second place, and all the sudden we were signed to a label, and we were selling millions of records and we were touring, and we were winning Grammys, and we were buying our parents and siblings houses…and two months after our third album came out, Aemond was maimed at the Budokan and it was time for him to get off the ride.”
You stare at Aegon, tremendously sad, not knowing what to say. Sometimes the right words don’t exist.
Aegon smirks. “He really likes you.”
“Maybe.” And then, with guileless vulnerability: “I hope so.”
“That’s dangerous.”
Your brow knits into fearful grooves. “Why?”
“I know how to enjoy something without owning it. I don’t think Aemond does.”
You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “What was Shelby like?”
Aegon considers this for a long time before he answers. “She was simultaneously too good for him and not good enough.”
Too gorgeous. Too cool. Too Pinterest-board perfect, airy like summer. But not deep. A river, a glimmer, but with no understanding of the abyss. You aren’t sure how you know that this is what Aegon means, but you do. You don’t want to think about Shelby anymore. You pivot. “So Aemond is the past and you’re the present. Who’s the future? Daeron?”
Aegon smiles, lazy and warm. “I think you’re the future.”
“Yeah right. Get your Crocs off my bed.”
He complies, groaning, flopping onto the floor gracelessly.
“Where’d you get the puffin?”
“Some Icelandic kid recognized me in the elevator. He wanted to give me a present. In return, I signed an autograph and got him and his dad front row seats to the show tomorrow. So I’d say it was a very favorable exchange for him.”
“You’re a saint,” you say, and then find yourself thinking randomly of Saint Jude again. Lost causes. Lost causes.
Aegon grins at you as he crawls to his feet and makes for the door. “Patron saint of mayhem.”
~~~~~~~~~~
You’re watching old Comet Donati performances on YouTube when the hotel fire alarm goes off. And it’s strange, because the unscarred, clear-eyed boy on the screen is Aemond but also isn’t him; he smiles more easily, he looks at people without suspicion, he is ebullient and confident and carefree like kids blowing bubbles on front porches. When you open your suite door, dressed in your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants and an oversized New Kids On The Block t-shirt, Aemond is just arriving.
“Oh good,” he says. “You’re still awake.” And then he walks with you to the nearest stairwell.
Outside, the hotel guests are clustered together with their travel companions, shuddering under coats and sweaters and blankets clasped around their shoulders like capes. Even at the start of July, Iceland is cold: fifties during the day as Americans like you measure in Fahrenheit, forties at night, nearly always overcast. It’s 11 p.m., but the sun won’t set until midnight, and even then only for a few short hours; the sky is wearing the colors of dusk, lilac, rose pink, pale blue, fire and gold. You’re shivering, rubbing your bare forearms and feeling the goosebumps that have risen there like braille. Aemond tugs off his black and white Calvin Klein hoodie and offers it to you. As you pull it over your head, you breathe in the pieces of him that have snared in the fabric: smoke and cologne, gin and soap and the brine of the seaside air. Now wearing only his jeans and his koi fish shirt, Aemond lights a cigarette and gazes up at the hotel, postmodern angles and semi-transparent glass.
“No one’s going to give me a hoodie?” Aegon says, quaking in his cyan tank top. Criston reluctantly unzips his bomber jacket and hands it over.
“Did you do this?” Criston asks him, meaning the fire alarm.
“What?! No! No way, man! It wasn’t me!”
Criston turns to Cregan for confirmation. Cregan shrugs, ambiguous. “I knew it!” Criston exclaims. He is distraught.
Several fire engines arrive, red lights strobing, and firefighters enter the hotel to investigate. Baela and Jace are standing near each other but not speaking, arms crossed, faces tense. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron are watching an episode of The Crown on Luke’s iPhone. Cregan lights a cigarette and manages to take two drags before Criston notices and lunges to bat it out of his hand.
“Stop it!” Criston orders. “You’ll ruin your voice!” Nobody tells Aemond not to smoke. His voice doesn’t matter anymore.
Aegon asks you, his hands buried in the pockets of Criston’s jacket: “Would you run into a burning building to save me?”
“Why would you be in a burning building?”
“That’s really not the point.”
“I’d think about it.”
Luke says, the glow of his iPhone dancing across his face: “Wow, Prince Charles is a bitch.”
“You’d think about it?” Aegon says to you. “You’d think about it?!”
“You have no excuse to be in a burning building. You have now experienced an evacuation, you know exactly how to leave a building successfully, if you’re still in it for some reason then that’s your problem.”
“You hear that, Criston?” Aegon says. “This is a good thing. Now everyone knows what to do if there’s a real fire! And we’re in hotels all the time, so this is super helpful!”
“Please shut up,” Criston begs.
“Hey Cregan, share with the class, what did you learn about fire safety from this fortuitous occasion?”
“I already knew what to do.”
Aegon is grinning. “Yeah? What’s that, Cregan?”
“Get in the shower and wait for the fire department to come rescue me.”
Everyone laughs—even Jace and Baela—and Cregan’s lips quirk up in one corner, the only hint that he is joking. A parade of firefighters exit the hotel. One of them is carrying a toaster. Black smoke pours out of the slits in the top.
She says something in Icelandic that you can’t understand, then repeats in English: “Who was trying to cook hotdogs in a toaster?”
The guests chatter incredulously among themselves: Who would do such a thing?
You, Aemond, Luke, Rhaena, Daeron, Cregan, Jace, Baela, and Criston are mindful to look anywhere except at Aegon. You gaze out at the horizon, the kaleidoscopic midnight sun. Aegon peers down at his Crocs, hair tangled and blue eyes wide.
“Very well,” the firefighter with the toaster says, a little smugly. “We will consult with the hotel staff and see which guest was registered to that room.”
“Goddammit!” Criston hisses, and shoves by the band to go meet the firefighters. You can’t hear what’s being said, but his hands move in exaggerated gestures of humiliation, apology, restitution. Fortunately, the Icelandic people seem to be forgiving.
Daeron turns to Aegon. All he says is: “Why?”
“I couldn’t figure out the buttons on the stove!”
Criston comes trudging back to the band. Guests are being admitted into the hotel to return to their drinks, their television shows and mystery novels, their families, their lovers, their beds. “Alright, it’s taken care of. Go to your rooms. All of you, right now, go.”
No one has the heart to argue with him; he looks half-broken already. Everybody disperses. You and Aemond end up alone together as the elevator zooms to the fifth floor. He takes his small, square metal lighter out of his jeans pocket and toys with it, repeatedly flicking the lid open and then shutting it again.
You point to it. “Vintage lighter. Vintage bike. And yet you write with glittery gel pens instead of quills and ink. Poser.”
“I like old things,” he says, smiling. “I think history is important.”
And you hear Aegon’s words like an echo: That’s dangerous. You start pulling off Aemond’s hoodie to give it back to him.
“No,” he says, sounding pleased. “You keep it.” So you do, finding excuses to bring the sleeves close to your face—touching your hair, your lips, your eyelashes—so you can inhale him.
Aemond leaves you at the door of your suite, but you don’t go inside. You wait for another five minutes until Criston steps out of an elevator and into the hallway, alone and agitated. Still, he has concern to spare for you.
“You okay? Locked yourself out?”
“No. I was just hoping to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.” Criston is tired, but his eyes, dark like fertile earth, are attentive.
“When Aemond was hurt…when the label yanked him out of Comet…no one fought for him?”
“Luke did,” Criston says.
And then he continues down the hall, shoulders low, a man troubled by both the past and the future.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Blue Lagoon is like Aemond’s sightless left eye: a milky blue, opaque, something you could drown in. The band spends several hours splashing and wading in water warmer than the blood in your veins. The white silica mud that forms the floor is soft beneath your bare feet, squishing between your toes; people spread it over their skin like a skin shedding its scales in reverse. Criston orders strawberry-banana smoothies from the in-water bar, trying to distract Aegon and Jace from the beer and the wine. Currently, Comet’s most worrisome performers are locked in combat: Daeron is on Aegon’s shoulders, Luke on Jace’s, entangled in a spirited chicken fight. This is much preferable to their first choice, Marco Polo, which led to Jace ‘accidentally’—and repeatedly—bumping into various early-twenties female tourists, whereupon he would inevitably profusely apologize, introduce himself, and pose for selfies, beads of turbid mineral water dripping from his curls. Cregan has drifted to the other side of the lagoon, floating on his back and basking beneath the overcast midday sun.
“I can’t believe they made everyone shower naked before getting in here,” Rhaena says, drinking her smoothie, submerged in rippling blue up to her collarbones. She had nearly refused to go through with it—I’ll wait in the car! I’ll be fine! I’ll just watch The Crown on my phone for three hours!—until you and Baela offered to hold up your towels to shield her from view and insisted that none of the other guests (all female, as the showers are sorted by gender) were paying attention. Nudity is not a big deal in Iceland. It’s quite a far cry from Missouri.
“You gotta honor the local culture, babe.” Baela flashes Rhaena a teasing grin. “Scandinavians are super progressive. No shame about bodies or relationships. Very sex-positive.”
“Well Jace is certainly blending in.”
Now Baela isn’t grinning anymore. She frowns broodingly out over the lagoon. Rhaena, regretting that she said it but knowing it can’t be taken back, noisily slurps at her smoothie even when it’s gone. You and Aemond exchange an uncomfortable glance. Baela has never broached the topic of her relationship with you, but you know it’s coming. You can sometimes see her working up the nerve like a bucket filling with water, drop by drop.
You change the subject. “See, Rhaena? The naked shower thing wasn’t even that bad. It was over in two minutes, and absolutely nobody was judging you. And if you hadn’t done it, you would have missed out on this amazing experience!”
“You weren’t nervous?” she asks you. “Not at all?”
“I little bit, yeah. Of course. I’m an American.” Everyone chuckles. “But logically, I knew no one would really be watching me. I’m not that interesting. And also…I wasn’t truly naked.”
“Huh…?”
You wiggle your eyebrows and, smiling radiantly, spin around and point to the black-ink tattoo between your shoulder blades, underscored by the straps of your swimsuit that cross just below it: a comet with a streaming tail, lyrics that Aemond dreamed up in a kinder world. Rhaena laughs.
“Oh, right, of course.”
“You are obsessed with that thing!” Baela says, but she sounds relatively happy again.
“It’s true. I am. I admit it.” Sometimes you find yourself staring at it in hotel bathroom mirrors still foggy with steam, wiping away condensation to marvel at the irrevocable ways in which Aemond has marked you, ways you are thankful cannot be erased. When you wear anything that reveals your upper back like a spilled secret, you often catch Aemond gazing at it too. Now he reaches over and skims a fingerprint along the circle that his lyrics form around the comet:
I’ll come back for you if it kills me
Comets clip by again after eons and so can I
There’s a jolt down your spine like lightning, but more eager than jarring. All other thoughts vanish from you. You look over at Aemond, and he looks back, his lips slightly parted, his right eye beckoning to you. And you know it will be good with him, if it happens, when it happens. It will be more than good. It will be laced with an intensity, with a dire breed of necessity that you’ve never tasted before. All at once, you and Aemond realize what you’ve done and drift away from each other again, weakening gravity, elliptical orbits.
“No shame, guys,” Baela quips, raising her smoothie glass in a toast. “Sex-positive, remember?”
After the 45-minute drive back to Reykjavik, and after the concert, the band coalesces in Jace’s suite. There aren’t many hangers-on for this stop of the tour; Reykjavik is isolated and peaceful and not particularly desirable for friends of convenience who are more interested in clubbing and drugs than camaraderie. You wouldn’t trade nights like this for anything in the world.
Aemond is reading off his latest notes, white ink on black paper, stars on the backdrop of the universe. A Benson & Hedges cigarette smolders between two fingers on his left hand. Smoke curls up around his face. “Aegon, you were three steps behind the choreography for basically the entire show.”
“Yeah, that was on purpose.”
“It wasn’t,” Aemond counters, but he can’t help but smile.
“Women love a tragic disaster of a man who is screaming to be fixed.”
“Daeron,” Aemond continues. “I really like that hair flip you’ve started doing…”
Aegon is knocking back dark glass bottles of Gædingur Stout and slurring, very drunk and sinking deeper by the minute. In the absence of coke, he has resorted to other crutches. You are squeezed between Aemond and Baela on one of the couches. And Aemond isn’t really touching you, but he also is: the delicious subtle pressure of his thigh against yours, occasional nudges of his elbow, ostensibly unintentional grazes of knuckles and palms. He’s drinking his usual, a Bramble, and so are you, swirls of slow-moving pink like drops of blood in open water. And you think in a hazy bliss like listening to ground-level conversations from the bottom of a swimming pool: Tonight, tonight, tonight, he’s going to come back to my room with me tonight.
“Oh great,” you mumble as you check your Facebook messages on your iPhone.
“What’s wrong?” Rhaena asks. She’s nestled against Luke on the opposite couch, twirling locks of his hair around her benign, delicate fingers. Jace is sitting beside Luke, drinking a Vesper and trying not to make eye contact with Baela. Daeron is in the fuzzy white sheepskin lounge chair, Cregan perched on a bar stool, Criston standing watchfully with a vivid green bottle of Perrier in one hand. When he briefly steps out onto the balcony to take a call from the label, you can hear only the most dim, indistinct murmurings through the thick tinted glass, sounds but not words. Aegon is sitting—and occasionally crawling around—on the floor. The Backstreet Boys’ I Want It That Way is playing.
“I’m subletting my apartment in Kansas City and there is a strict no pet policy. But my neighbors snitched on the new tenant and apparently she’s got a Flemish Giant rabbit living there with her.”
“Not even a normal rabbit,” Baela muses. “A giant rabbit.”
You sigh. “All the rugs are going to be chewed up by the time I get back.” And Aemond glances over anxiously, like he doesn’t want any reminders that you won’t always be around.
“What’s your apartment like?” he says.
“Old. Vintage. Most of it hasn’t been updated since the 1950s. You’d appreciate it, actually. It would match your aesthetic.”
“Maybe I’ll have to see it sometime.”
You smirk at him, flirtatious, baiting, the silver stars on your dress reflecting golden lamplight. “Maybe. If I invite you.”
He leans in to whisper so only you can hear: “You will.”
“I think I’d be a landlord if I wasn’t famous,” Jace says, nursing his Vesper meditatively like an aspiring philosopher. “I’d just sit back and collect the checks as they rolled in. And you get to raise the rent every year.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Aegon says, grinning up at him saccharinely.
“What would you be, Stargirl?” Jace asks; and you realize you hate the sound of him using Aegon’s name for you.
“I mean, a therapist.” And everyone laughs, even Criston.
Jace flushes, brushing his curls back from his face with one hand. “Oh yeah. Clearly.”
You look to Aemond. “You’d be a historian or an archivist or something.”
“Or a writer,” Luke says.
“Maybe,” Aemond agrees, a tad uncomfortable with the attention. “Or an animal activist, maybe. I’d like to do some sort of good in the world.”
Aegon shouts, far more loudly than necessary: “What would you be, Criston?”
“Thousands of miles away from you.” More laughter, riotous; but Criston is smiling a little.
“What about you, Cregan?” Jace asks. “What would you want to be if Comet didn’t exist?”
Cregan downs a shot of Absolut Vodka. “A plastic surgeon.”
“What? Why?”
Cregan shrugs. “You get to see tits all the time.”
There are scandalized squeals and guffaws. Baela says: “I would not let you anywhere near my tits.”
“And not just tits!” Daeron adds brightly. “Don’t they do, what’s it called, vaginal rejuvenation?”
Cregan points at him with his empty shot glass. “Exactly.”
“Oh God, that sounds painful.” Rhaena hides her face behind a flute of champagne.
“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I’m interested.”
Aegon snorts, drips of Gaedingur Stout flying from his nose. “Like you’d ever need it. You’ve got a pornstar pussy, fucking gorgeous.”
A hush sweeps through the room like a dust storm. Baffled glances dart around wildly. Immediately, Aegon realizes his mistake. He gazes up at you from the floor with large, glazed, drunken blue eyes that glisten with apology. You gape back, half-furious and half-petrified.
“Wait, what?” Aemond says. Ashes build on his cigarette, forgotten.
“Oh, wow.” Jace gestures from you to Aegon. “You guys…you guys have…?”
“It was once, a long time ago,” you say quickly. “Like, a really long time ago. Over a year ago.”
Aegon is trying to help. “Ages ago. Ancient history.”
“Where? In Kansas City?!” Baela gasps, stunned.
Aegon tells her: “You remember that bar we all went to after the show, right? The one on the roof?”
Baela is blinking at you, not comprehending. “You hooked up with him? In a bar?! Aegon?!”
“Um, yeah.”
Jace brays out a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, Stargirl. I thought you had better taste than that.”
You feel like you’re fighting for your life. You feel like you can’t breathe. “It really wasn’t serious…” Not the sex part, anyway.
“No, no, it totally wasn’t,” Aegon agrees gamely. “It was like, what? How long were we in that bathroom? Maybe ten minutes total?”
Daeron is giggling. “Bruh, stop roasting yourself!”
As the chatter flies, you hide your face in your hands; beneath your palms, your cheeks are hot. You can feel Aemond pulling away from you, spaces opening up between your thighs and shoulders and arms like the ever-expanding void of the universe. When you steal a glimpse of him through the cracks in your fingers, he is staring down at the floor. He is silent, but you can see the thoughts—the images—riddling him like bullets. You can see him filling up with them like a punctured ship fills with seawater. He smokes until his cigarette is gone, and then immediately lights another.
Luke is the one to mercifully intercede. “Hey, Criston, where are we going next?”
“Uh,” Criston says, trying not to gawk at you or Aegon. “Let me think. Uh. Oh, right. Paris.”
Jace cackles. “The city of love! How appropriate!”
Criston ignores him. “You have some press interviews and then you’re doing two shows at the Accor Arena on July 7th and 8th…”
Aemond gulps down the rest of his Bramble and then walks out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind him.
“Fuck,” Aegon sighs miserably, then guzzles his Gaedingur Stout.
You bolt off the couch and go after Aemond. The heavy sliding glass door growls as you roll it open and then shut it again. Outside, Reykjavik is cold and windswept. The midnight sun is aflame. It’s still too bright to see the Northern Lights; even if they were there, you would have no way of knowing. Aemond is smoking with his back to you. He’s looking out over the boats bobbing in the harbor, sunbeams glinting on the crests of waves. Flapping gulls swoop and scream.
You say cuttingly, like a surgeon slicing away malignancies: “So what, you don’t like me anymore?”
Aemond flicks ashes over the balcony railing. “I just think I understand you better.”
“What does that mean?”
He whirls to you and says pointedly: “Why are you here?”
A disorienting question. Too easy. “I followed you out onto the balcony.”
“No, here with the band, here in Reykjavik, why are you here?”
You know how the truth sounds, but you can’t rewrite it. “Because Aegon asked me to be.”
“Because he asked you to come fix me, right?” Aemond demands. “To crack open my skull and stir things around until I’m okay with the fact that my life ended seven months ago.”
“No!” you shout into the wind. “I mean, yes, he thought I’d be able to help you, to help Comet, but that’s not what this is about for me anymore—”
“Why would I believe you? You’re a liar, you’re a confirmed liar, why would I believe a single goddamn word of what you have to say?!”
“I didn’t lie to you!”
“Friends!” Aemond roars. He doesn’t touch you, but his rage is horrifying, ageless and deep like lava bubbling beneath tectonic plates. “You said you and Aegon were friends!”
“We are friends—”
“No, you’re not. You met him, you fucked him, and then when he invited you to join the tour you dropped everything to do it, why, because you still want him? And I’m the charity case? Or I was just next in line? Maybe you were planning to work your way through the whole band. Who’s next, Jace? I don’t think he’d object.”
“No—!”
“You and Aegon. And you didn’t even have the guts to tell me.”
“Because I didn’t want to have this conversation, the one where you eviscerate me for something that happened before I even met you!”
“You chose him,” Aemond says, venomous. “At the bar in Kansas City, you chose him.”
“What?! Aemond, I don’t even remember seeing you, I don’t think you were there at all—”
“I was there.” He glares at you, thunderstorms, tornadoes, the earth splitting in two. “Last June. Rooftop bar. String lights. View of the river. I remember it, I was there.”
“Well then you didn’t notice me either and you probably spent the whole night with Pilates princess, Malibu Barbie Shelby, so what’s the fucking point?!”
He glowers at the horizon. Iceland DOES have jewel tones, you think erratically. But they only come out at night, like owls or bats. “It’s different.”
“It’s not different! You’re so convinced people don’t like you that you do insane, irrational things that make people not like you! It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy! It’s a fucking circle, you idiot!”
“I’ve had enough psychoanalysis, thanks.”
“No, you could use some more of it, you could use a lot more, you have so many demons it’s like Paranormal Activity in your brain, they’re in there all day tearing things off the walls and kicking over chairs and sabotaging anything you dare to care about and you let them!”
He turns away from you. “Just go the fuck back to Kansas.”
“I’m from Missouri!”
Aemond pitches the end of his cigarette over the balcony. His good eye flicks to the sliding glass door. The curtains rustle as the faces that hovered there just seconds ago disappear back into the suite. Very muffled through the thick glass, you can hear Criston chastising people.
You ask Aemond, embers in your throat: “This is really something you consider unforgiveable?”
He shakes his head, mournful, violently disappointed. “You’re just a groupie. You’re just a slut.”
Slut. It’s not the word, it’s the way he said it, with dismissiveness, with condemnation, the same way men love to use it as a blade to carve off every other piece of you—kindness, coldness, ferocity, loyalty, wit, passion, talent, triumphs, failures, ghosts—until that one little word is all that’s left. You’re dismantled into a clutter of loose bolts and bent nails. You’re a beef cow that was led into the maze of a gnashing, metal-and-blood processing plant and came out the other side a brainless, raw-pink patty just the right size to fit in a Big Mac box, something to be consumed but not remembered. “What did you say to me?”
He’s staring out into the twilight sky, both hands on the balcony railing. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I…”
“Are you kidding me?! I can’t believe I got your lyrics tattooed on my fucking back, what am I supposed to do about that now, rip my own skin off?!”
“So get it covered up. I’m sure Aegon would be thrilled to help you choose a new design, or Jace, or Cregan, or Daeron, or whoever.”
“You know what I think?” you say, caustic like acid.
“Don’t say it,” he threatens, low and dark.
“I think you haven’t fucked anyone since the accident, and you’re terrified to. But you shouldn’t be, Aemond. Because there’s nothing wrong with you. There has never been anything wrong with you.”
But he doesn’t hear that part. He only hears the first thing, what you never should have said at all. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean you should have said it. “I hate you,” he says softly, and you can’t think of a reply. The space between you fills up with wind, cold, dying sunlight. Aemond looks at the sliding glass door. “I don’t want to go back in there.”
“Well, we’re five stories off the ground, so you’ll probably have to.”
He studies the series of balconies that run along this side of the hotel, each separated by perhaps three feet of open air. Then he starts climbing over the metal railing.
“Aemond, don’t!”
But it’s too late. Fortunately, he has long limbs. He scrambles onto the next balcony, and then the one after that, and then one more, until he reaches the balcony for his own suite. He tries the sliding glass door—locked—and then sits down to wait for someone to open it. You go back inside Jace’s suite, where everyone pretends to have been talking about something other than you.
“Where’s Aemond?” Criston says, alarmed.
“He’s on the balcony of his suite. You should go let him in.”
“What?!” Criston yells, and then sprints out into the hallway.
You flee too. Both Baela and Aegon try to stop you, try to talk to you. They’re asking what Aemond said. They’re asking if you’re okay. You tell them you’re fine and that you want to be left alone. They argue. You insist. You walk back to your own room and start packing.
Your suitcase fills up with crumpled clothes and souvenirs: a Colosseum pencil sharpener from Rome, a tiny alabaster Apollo from Athens, a Spanish fighting bull refrigerator magnet from Madrid, handmade soap from Porto, a bar of chocolate from Vienna, a moose snow globe from Stockholm, a silica mud mask from the Blue Lagoon, a tiny stuffed comet that Rhaena crocheted for you. You reach back to touch your fingertips to the comet tattooed over your spine, tears biting in your eyes. If I had told him from the start, would that have made a difference? If I had met him first, would we have had a chance? You are gathering up your makeup when you hear a knock on the doorframe.
Cregan lurks there. When he speaks, he sounds startled; he sounds afraid. “You can’t leave.”
“I’ve literally never had a conversation with you, so thanks for the input but I’m still going.”
“No,” he says, persistent. “You can’t leave.”
“Aemond doesn’t want me here.” Your voice is fragile, shattering. “I can’t help him anymore.”
“It’s not just about Aemond. It’s about everyone. They’re all fucked up. They all need you.”
You stare at Cregan, not understanding. “I really don’t think I’m equipped for this.”
He fixes his cool greyish eyes on you. He is harsh but somehow not unkind. “You would never be able to comprehend where I came from. I’m not going back to that. The band has given me everything. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from me. You have to stay. You have to fix Comet. You can’t leave.”
He watches you, and you watch him, and you aren’t sure who has the upper hand here, who is the predator and who is the prey. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe everyone is a patchwork of strengths and deficits, fields of gold strewn with landmines.
At last, you relent. And Cregan doesn’t vanish until you’ve begun taking your souvenirs out of your suitcase and placing each of them—carefully, reverently—back on your nightstand where they were before.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aegon x reader#aegon ii#aegon targaryen ii#Aegon II Targaryen#Aegon Targaryen#aegon x y/n#aegon x you#aemond x reader
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Is weirdkid! Brice not reading the letter because he's afraid what could be written there or is he just a bit petty? I'm very curious what's in the letter lol
The woods were almost too quiet after the noise of the city, but an easy remedy for that was a playlist and a welder.
With no contracts outstanding and the JLA currently not in a crisis that required your assistance, you had time for pet projects. And work helped. It dulled the ache.
Even if you'd known it was time to leave and time to do things your own way, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. You'd been hand in hand with Bruce for a long time. He was a constant presence. Even if he wasn't present, he cast a long shadow. And it was hard not to worry about him. To hope that you'd done enough. That you hadn't left him vulnerable somehow.
But he was Bruce.
He hadn't been vulnerable for a long time.
He didn't need you to protect him from Selina. He wasn't 12 and awkward. He was a grown man. And objectively, you could see her appeal to him. She could understand aspects of his life you never could. After all. What good would being a vigilante do you? What would you do? Twirl at them and throw sequins?
No. It was better this way. If you stayed away and let them sort it out. Maybe, if he didn't feel like you were there and disapproving he WOULD be vulnerable to someone. Even- even if it wasn't you.
Even if it was Selina. Or Talia. Or any of the other women whose relationships with him you thought were a horrible idea.
And who knew. Maybe... Maybe you could find someone. Did you even WANT someone? You had work. You had friends. And what if-
You shake your head, dismissing the thought. Thinking about Jackie was the last thing you needed to do. About what happened to him. It wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. It was a bad hand. A twist of fate.
But even that, what you told yourself so many times, couldn't stop the chill that crept down your spine despite the heat in the garage. One problem at a time.
And first things first, you had to figure out the best way to do this bulid. Hopefully, you won't have to order anything. It was a nightmare to get things shipped out here.
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Wait I have another one:
Ship of your choice but Person A accidentally seals the mate bond with Person B after doing body shots and sucking a lime out of their mouth. 🙂
The Chemistry of Regret
Okay I had to do college AU Rhysta for this. Hope you like!! This got out of control.
Also the first hands then voice structure is inspired by a line in the fabulous @bittermuire's The Cape which you can read here. Read it!!
Nesta knows of Rhysand Velaris long before she ever has the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance.
He haunts the Biochemistry department like a spectre.
His overly styled hair gleaming even in the faded newspaper clipping framed outside Professor Wysten's lab.
His black eyes sparkling in picture after picture on the college's socials. Medals and grants and awards the only weight that anchors the Prince of Oíchad College.
The golden boy of the hallowed halls, gone but not forgotten.
And Nesta, living the cruel life of a fresh PhD student grows to hate that curving smirk of a stranger, his sloping signature on the near-empty bottle of Trypan Blue that Wysten refuses to bin, his crisp embroidered lab coat that lies draped over a chair in the dry lab awaiting the return of its owner.
***
Imitator, the dye taunts each time she stains her cells watching blue seep into their crevices, a damning marker of death.
Imposter, the message Wysten imparts in every gushing compliment he in his absence is bestowed that she in her unfailing presence is never good enough to earn.
Lesser, a voice, that must be his, whispers in her ear as she lies awake and wonders if life should feel easier than this.
***
His return from his year in Paris is anticipated like a public holiday. Outfits planned between centrifuge spins, tables booked at his favourite club.
The days are counted down in blood red Xs on the calendar in the study room and when D-day arrives the entire department leaves in a flurry into the cool chill of a January night.
The building is empty, only she and security remains.
Nesta is eager to take advantage of the free slots on the flow cytometer, normally booked until the wee hours. As the sequins on her dress dance like stars and the machine whirs quietly in the background, she runs her cells and finds solace in solitude.
But her cells are soon studied, peace is temporary and then she's queuing on Court Street to enter the Night Palace.
She can feel the bass in her bones as she enters, the dim lighting making the whirling mass of bodies on the dance floor look like art.
***
She has a plan, stay for a drink, long enough to be seen by the tenured professors, long enough to look like she belongs, long enough that she'll be able to nod and smile at the lunch-time conversation.
Not so long that the loneliness erodes her from the inside out, corroding through tissue and bone.
That is the plan.
But then Gwyn, the pretty lab assistant has Sambuca and Emerie has rum and the strobe lights start looking closer to shooting stars.
With alcohol loosed limbs she remembers how much she likes to dance, how the pain of being seen has never stung when there is a rhythm to movement.
So between shots she moves until she gets lost in the art of writhing bodies.
***
She is on the dance floor, hair loose and glitter trailing from her eyes like tears when she meets him.
First, he is large veined hands tentatively touching her waist, awaiting further permission.
She is Nesta Archeron, made of Sambuca and starlight, so she grinds back onto the stranger, the tall stranger she amends as his body presses against her back.
Then he is voice, rich and smooth, as his lips touch her ear lobe, his clipped accent conjuring schooldays at Eton and summers on yachts.
'You're very beautiful.'
The words hit her like sleet in summer.
How...boring.
She is unimpressed and turns to tell him as such.
She is shocked when finally he is no longer solely hands nor voice but Rhysand Velaris in all his tangible glory.
'You!'
She shouts, struggling to be heard over the pounding music, attempting to create a cavern between them even as the crowd presses in from all sides.
'Me.'
His cocky smile turns into a grimace as he reads the disappointment in her expression.
She does not stay long enough to introduce herself.
Sobriety looms too close for that.
She disappears in the grinding groping bodies until his voice melds with the rising melody.
***
He finds her at the bar.
Of course he does. His ghost has been haunting her for the better part of a year why wouldn't his corporeal form do the same.
'Rhysand Velaris.'
His hand, previously branding its heat on the soft wide curve of her waist, is now outstretched and open.
She extends hers, grasping firmly.
'Nesta Archeron.'
Her smile is a tight thin mimicry of what it should be.
His strong brow raises and his eyes widen.
'You're Nesta Archeron, the new PhD?'
She dips her head ignoring the question, too focused now on arranging her cleavage to attract the bartender.
Rhysand's eyes stay fixed to her face, as she successfully obtains her Tequila shots.
'I've been looking forward to meeting my new lab buddy who has booked every afternoon slot in the wet lab for the next month.'
She feels a grin tug at her lips at his pointed tone.
'You snooze you lose, Velaris.'
And in an impulse she wished she could blame on the undrunk shots before her she snipes,
'If it's a problem get Daddy to build us a new lab.'
His laugh is unexpected and far too enchanting for a handsome face. Because he is handsome, Mother damn him.
'Would you like me then? Because I'm very motivated for you to like me Nesta Archeron.'
He caresses the syllables of her name, his teeth clicking on the t and lingering like he wants to hold the letters a beat too long.
'Why? Because I'm beautiful.'
She scoffs.
His posture stiffens.
'No. Because you're brilliant. From what I've read, from what I've heard.'
A pause.
'Of course, you being beautiful is a welcome addition. Not as beautiful as me though.'
A giggle escapes her because he is ridiculous. This is ridiculous. He isn't allowed to be charming, not when she has decided to hate him.
***
'Let's do shots.'
She gestures clumsily to the glasses almost knocking them in the process.
And because she's lost her mind, for that must be the only reason, she grasps his inner forearm licking the tanned skin, letting her tongue drag lightly along, following a vein towards his elbow, ignoring the electricity that sparks through her body as she does.
He is tense, eyes pools of darkness she could drown in, the leather and chocolate of his cologne muddling her brain.
She salts his arm pushing the slice of lime his way. He obediently inserts it into his mouth, moving like a man dazed, eyes transfixed on her lips.
Like a film reel she sees the next three years play in her head if she carries on with this insanity, awkwardness and avoidance abound.
So why is she compelled to continue this mistake?
***
You'll regret this.
Her brain screams as the Tequila slides a burning fire down her throat.
You'll regret this.
It pleads as she kisses the white crystals from soft skin of his arm, nipping slightly so he moans her name in a way she definitely cannot linger on.
You'll regret this.
It begs as their lips meet in a citrus clash that sets fireworks off behind her eyes. He breaks momentarily to spit out the wedge of lime before returning to capture her lips, kissing her like lonely women dream of, hot and expert and claiming.
***
When she opens her eyes to meet a panting Rhysand, those hands still clutching her like she might mean salvation from an unknown damnation, dark hair tousled from her fingers grasping and tugging mere seconds before.
When he touches his ribs before looking in awe at her, like she is more than her frame can contain.
When he says her name like a prayer, like a curse, and she feels the golden links tying them together in a way science can only vaguely explain, she finds their damnation.
And she knows.
She'll regret this.
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Was it worth it?
Seonghwa x Y/N: Angst & potential cheating
S/N - Fake GG
Synopsis: You’re madly in love with the man of your dreams, but a phone call changes everything, causing your life to spiral and your worst fears to be met.
Another Saturday night alone you thought to yourself, pouring a large glass of wine and making your way to the sofa. Silence echoed throughout your apartment which was caused you to slightly shiver as you sunk back into the chair.
Dating an idol wasn’t easy, but you loved Seonghwa so much that not much else mattered. There was a lot of lonely nights like this one, but when you were with him all of that was forgotten and you just embraced being in love. Was your relationship normal? of course not, but for most idols and other celebrities, a normal relationship isn’t possible, so you just have to make do with what you have.
You pick up the remote and switch channel to watch the award show, smiling as you see the boys all dressed up, including your handsome boyfriend in his fitted suit. Surrounding them was a lot of well known groups, smiling for the camera’s and waving to the fans earning them loud cheers and cries. You noticed that the newly debuted girl group W1SH was sat next to Ateez. You couldn’t really help but watch them. Their sequined outfits fit to their petite bodies like skin and bright silky hair adorned their heads. You realised you weren't the only was fixated on them, as you noticed many other idols sneaking glances at their beauty.
Recently a story had come out shipping Seonghwa with the groups leader Minali. When you first read about it you couldn’t help the anxiety that hit you, Minali was beautiful. She had long auburn hair that cascaded down her back in loose curls and bright doe eyes that drew you in. Seonghwa laughed off the story saying it was ridiculous and that you shouldn’t believe such things, squashing any fear you may of felt... that was until this moment. You leaned closer to the TV with wide eyes watching the looks she aimed at your boyfriend, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling in his direction. Now usually this wouldn’t bother you as with your experience of dating Seonghwa, many girls made advances but this felt different, he was acknowledging her flirtatious looks and you could see the blush rising on his cheeks.
‘Calm down y/n’ you scold yourself, ‘he’s probably just feeling nervous’. You walk to the kitchen again to pour another glass of wine in the hopes that it calms your nerves and settles your now pounding heart that was trying to jump through your t-shirt.
The rest of the awards show went on smoothly, though you continued to notice small glances between your boyfriend and the pretty leader. At this point you were sat crossed legged in front of the TV screen with your nose almost pressed up against the glass, trying to figure out if your eyes were playing tricks on you or if indeed your world was being enticed by another.
Once the ceremony had ended and the group interviews started, giving the idols time to thank their fans for helping them with the awards. The next group appeared causing the presenter to cheer into the microphone.
‘Welcome Ateez, a big win for you guys tonight. Hongjoong please tell me how you’re feeling’ the interviewer asks, to which the leader answers beautifully with a well versed response on their evenings achievements.
‘Now Seonghwa, we all couldn't help but notice the tension between you and Minali’ the interviewers laughs, ‘is there anything going on there?’ this question makes your boyfriend to blush and look down at his feet, ‘No comment’ he responds which causes the people in the room to gasp loudly.
You don’t realise how tense your body is at this point as a sinking feeling tugs inside your chest. You continue to stare at the screen questioning whether you had heard it wrong and your boyfriend of 2 years didn’t just say that. You’re quickly pulled out of your trance as you notice W1SH were now chatting with the reporter and the same question is asked to Minali. ‘Come on Minali can you tell us if something is going on with you and Seonghwa?’... you wait with bated breath for her response as you see a smirk playing on her lips. ‘I don’t like to kiss and tell’ she answers.
You turn the TV off with anger and hurt running through your veins and start pacing your apartment back and forth. Seonghwa wouldn’t cheat on you, you try to tell yourself. He’s not that type of person. You couldn’t seem to wrap your head around what you had saw, nothing was adding up, yet everything started to make sense. Maybe the late night practices and overnight stays at the dorm was all just lies. Was he with her? Was she the one he held at night whilst you slept alone holding his pillow close just to get his scent.
You needed answers, so you picked up your phone and dialled his number, the show finished a while ago so he had no reason not to answer. After several rings the number connects and your heart sinks. ‘Hello Seonghwa’s phone’ a sweet voice says. The voice sounded all too familiar but you couldn’t help yourself but question if you were right. ‘Who is this?’ you questioned. ‘This is Minali, who is this?’ she responds.
You couldn’t speak, the words were lost in your mouth and you had to bite your tongue to stop the sob threatening to escape. ‘Hwa, there’s someone on the phone for you’ the voice sings out to your boyfriend, but at this point you didn’t need to speak to him, you had the answer you needed to know and you hang up the phone and launch it across the room.
You slump to the ground, the pain in your chest is growing stronger by the second as you feel your world collapse around you. Everything you shared together was a lie. You fought for this relationship, spent endless nights alone waiting for a person who was too busy loving someone else. You were done fighting, done being lied to and feeling disappointed. You felt so much at once that you started to feel nothing. He betrayed you and he hurt you, just to make himself feel better.
You pull your suitcase from under the bed and start throwing all your belongings in at once. You can barely see what you’re putting in at this point as your eyes are cluttered with the tears you couldn’t hold in. It hits you all at once how much stuff in this apartment was your shared memories, from the pictures hanging on the wall of you both to the pretty jewellery box he bought you for your birthday. None of that was coming with you, because leaving him meant leaving all those memories behind that were now tainted with infidelity. All those memories were now lies, you thought to yourself as you finish packing up your things. Your phone still laid bare with no traces of texts or calls, he didn’t care that he hurt you or broke your heart.
You stand in your apartment taking one last look at the place you called home. It’s almost eerie how empty it feels without your belongings, making you realise that this was never really a couples home, but the home of a lonely person constantly waiting for her lover who only ever saw her as an option. With that you turn your back on the pain and close the door behind you, and the only traces of you that are left behind are broken memories and a note for the person who hurt you the most.
‘I hope she was worth it’.
#kpop#kpop boys#kpopidol#kpop smut#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#kpop angst#kpop sad#kpop ateez#ateez#Ateez hongjoong#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez sad#ateez soulmate au#ateez seonghwa#ateez series#Seonghwa#seonghwa scenarios#seonghwa imagines#seonghwa reactions#seonghwa angst#ateez angst#park seonghwa#ateez blurbs#ateez drabbles#ateez fic#ateez x y/n
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Mean Girl
Warnings: drug use, coercion, dub-con
I leaned back against the bar, watching the party that was Midsummers unfold. I sipped my fourth drink between twirling the straw with my finger and scanning all the boring too-rich-to function losers attempt to have a party.
This wasn’t a party. I could show them a party and this was the farthest thing from it. The party was in a little baggy in my pocket. Which reminded me, I needed to disappear for a minute. I needed a better buzz to help me keep up appearances.
I was about to leave for a moment after downing the rest of my drink when a manicured nails digs into my shoulder, tapping to get my attention.
I turn and face Courtney Cain, the Kook princess. Also a cold hearted bitch with a body built for sin. Her chocolate brown hair was curled perfectly and she wore a tight sequins dress that was practically painted on with high slits in both legs. I didn’t look long because those green-ish hazel eyes were shooting daggers at me and she huffed impatiently.
“Yes, princess?” I asked, wondering why she was talking to me of all people. She left right after graduation for some prim and proper elite college across country but I’m pretty sure it was because her parents couldn’t control her. So they shipped her off.
“I heard you’re the person to go to if someone needs something. I’m asking for a friend.” Her RBF is spot on, practically freezing me where I stand.
“Something?” I hinted, wanting her to say it. She scowled at me, her eyes darting around before scoffing under her breath.
“You know what I want. How much?” She hisses, looking me up and down like she knows I have it on me.
“I thought it was for a friend.” I smirk and she bristles. I suddenly wasn’t bored anymore.
“You know what—.”
“Easy,” I chuckle, letting my eyes linger on her prominent cleavage for a moment. “Follow me.”
I lead her upstairs to an empty private suite and to the bathroom. She keeps checking her surroundings, like she doesn’t want to be seen with me or she doesn’t want her parents to catch her. Either way, I’m down to help Queen Mean Girl get dirty.
“How much do you want?” I ask, cleaning off the counter to draw up the lines. She blinks at me.
“How much do you have?” She asks, licking her red painted lips. I widen my eyes. If I didn’t know who she was, I’d think she was an escort with how on display she was. But I knew this was just another jab at her parents. Anything to rebel.
“How fucked up are you trying to get?” I question, taking the baggy from my pocket and giving it a shake. Her eyes lock on it and she reaches inside her cleavage, pulling out several hundred dollar bills.
“I don’t want to remember this fucking day.” She huffs, holding up the money between two slender fingers. I was a shitty person. I’d let her have a gram for $400.
I reach for the money and offer the baggie but she shakes her hand at me.
“Line em up. Do one. I want to make sure it’s good shit.” She says and I chuckle, shaking my head.
“What could the Kook Queen herself be so eager to forget?” I smirk, setting up four lines and she rolls up one of the bills.
“Shut up. We’re not friends.” Courtney snaps, watching me as I take the rolled up bill and quickly do two lines. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as the high hits and I hear her do the first line. She sniffles then does the next one.
I can’t take my eyes off her body as her eyes fall closed and she lets the high take over. The way her tits raise and fall. The curve of her ass just begging for me to take a bite out. I also found myself liking that she didn’t smile. She wasn’t fawning over me. But I suddenly liked this challenge.
“Stop staring at me, creep.” Courtney scoffs, rolling her eyes then sniffling.
“Sorry, I’m just wondering why we never hooked up.” I admit, leaning against the wall next to the toilet and she scoffs again. I wanted to know what she sounded like when she moaned.
“Because you’re not my type.” Her face morphs with disgust and I grin. I was everyone’s type. No one told me no. And I didn’t miss the way her gaze swept over me, like the thought did cross her mind. I ran my tongue over my teeth as I watched her turn slightly and pull a small flask from her cleavage. My eyes widened in shock and amusement as she downed the entire thing.
“What else you got in there?” I taunt, not taking my eyes off her beautiful tits. I earn another scowl.
“Pour another line.” She demands and I shake my head, seeing her eyes starting to get glassy.
“Let me do a line off your tits.” I smirk and she glares at me, letting out an annoyed scoff.
“Fuck you. I paid for that.” She reaches for the baggy just as I snatch it up.
“Price just went up.” I declare, shoving the bills in my back pocket without her noticing. She blinked long and slow, those pretty eyes fully dilated as she stared back at me. She was starting to feel really good now.
“Come on, Court, I can keep a secret.” I whisper, approaching her as she backs away, her back meeting the door. She licks her lips as she swallows, then waves her hand like to say get on with it.
“Fine.” She snaps, but I could tell with the way she was panting, she was excited. I trail a finger down her bare arm and she shivers.
“Push them together.” I murmur, my cock fighting for freedom in my slacks. God, I was so hard it hurt.
Courtney complies and watches as I pour a small amount on the swells of her perfect tits. I smirk at her, my gaze lingering on her parted lips before I dive down and drag my nose over her tits. It hits me hard, my heart racing in my chest as I blink a few times. She’s silent as she watches me, her tits still in her hands. Like she wants more.
“Your turn. Snort it off my dick.” I growl. Her eyes widen for a moment but she doesn’t fight me as I free my aching cock from my slacks.
The way she was looking at my cock right now had me ready to nut already.
I carefully pour some powder along the tip and down my length and hold it in place for her.
“Come on. You know you want it.” My voice is lower and thick with need. If she touched me, I’d fucking snap. She approaches slowly, like a scared animal as she stares at the line I made for her.
“Like what you see?” I taunt as she starts to lower herself down.
“Shut up, Rafe.” She snaps, diving down and snorting the line then jumping back like I’ve burned her. I lunge forward, grabbing her and sitting her on the counter.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Courtney hisses, slapping at my chest.
“I can make you feel good, princess.” I lean into her neck and inhale her expensive perfume.
“Let me in, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you forget this shitty fucking day.” I run my tongue up her neck and she shivers, fisting my suit jacket.
“I know you’re horny. Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your dress. Your body is shaking with need. You want my big cock in your tight little pussy.”
“Jesus, fuck.” She growls, almost like a pissed off kitten as she pushes her pussy against me. I force her dress up around her waist to find her pantyless. My knees almost fucking give out. The hood of her pussy was pierced and she was dripping wet.
“What better way to get back at your parents than fucking the guy they hate?” I growl.
She was going to have the night of her fucking life.
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Okay here are more!! These are literally almost every ship friendly - wyler, wenclair, wavier, enid/ajax (what it their ship name?) ect plus just general friendship gang stuff :) enjoy
//
Wednesday: We have no idea how many stars there are.
Ajax: I think there are 7.
Wednesday: …No there are more than 7.
Enid: You just said we have no idea.
Wednesday: We know there are more than 7.
Enid: Well apparently you’re a liar so I’m even more convinced it’s 7.
Ajax: exactly.
/
Tyler: So you're a thief.
Thing: I like to call myself a specialist in complicated acquisitions.
\
Enid: Wednesday, if I was the last girl on earth would you date me?
Wednesday: (confused) If you were the last girl on earth..
Wednesday: then I wouldn't exist??
Enid (internally): Is she not interested or am I just bad at this??
\
Bianca: you need a hobby.
Xavier: i have a hobby.
Bianca: staring at Wednesdays face isn’t a hobby.
Xavier: you’re right. it’s a profession and i excel at my job.
/
Wednesday: You deserve a reward for putting up with me.
Enid: You are my reward.
*meanwhile*
Tyler: You deserve a reward for putting up with me.
Wednesday: True, you can be a really annoying sometimes.
\
Xavier: My brother says I'm a catch.
Bianca: Well, if I caught you, I'd throw you back into the ocean.
/
Wednesday: LOOK, I APPRECIATE YOU COMING ALL THE WAY OUT HERE TO SEE ME, BUT I'M KIND OF IN THE MIDDLE OF SOLVING A MYSTERY. CAN WE DO THIS ANOTHER TIME?
Bianca:
Bianca: Are you seriously asking to reschedule a kidnapping right now
\
Ajax: When I was little, I wanted Spider Man powers, so I found a spider and let it bite me.
Ajax: Later that day my parents took me to a doctor and I got diagnosed with ADHD.
Ajax: For years I was afraid that getting bitten by the spider, instead of giving me super powers, had given me ADHD.
/
*Tyler, wearing a blazer*
Tyler: Hey, Enid. Do you think I'm overdressed?
Enid: Depends on the activity. For a doctors appointment, yes.
Enid: If you're going to a casino, I'd add sequins.
*Tyler, returning in a tshirt and a cap*
Tyler: Too casual?
Enid: For an audience with the queen, yes.
Enid: For an evening of passing a bottle of fortified wine around a flaming trash can, you look great!
\
Wednesday: Why are you on the floor?
Tyler: I'm depressed.
Wednesday: Oh.
Tyler: Also, I was stabbed. Can you call an ambulance please?
/
Enid: Quick, take my hand!
Wednesday, grabbing his hand: Now what?
Enid: Nothing. I just wanted to hold hands.
\
Ajax: Bro, do you lift?
Xavier: Yeah dude, how did you know?
Ajax: Because you lift my heart whenever you're around.
Xavier: Bro.
Ajax: Bro.
/
Enid: Don't worry, no one else is gonna ask Wednesday out! You have all the time you need
Tyler: How do you know?
Enid: Because Wednesday is terrifying
\
Enid, about Tyler: He's covered in blood again. Why is it that he's always covered in blood?
Wednesday: Well, it looks like it's his own blood this time.
/
Bianca and Yoko: *pushing Wednesday and Enid under mistletoe*
Bianca: Oh, I guess you two are going to have to kiss now, that’ll be awkward!
Enid and Wednesday: *kissing casually*
Yoko: That was way too casual.
Bianca: Yeah…
Enid: Oh, did we forget to tell you? We’ve been dating for two months now.
\
Wednesday: Everything’s fine.
Enid: Wednesday, I know your relationship with the english language is strictly casual, but you- I- *deep inhale* ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU WHAT’S NOT FINE.
/
Bianca: what’s it like dating Wednesday?
Xavier: once I asked for water while she was pissed at me. she brought me a cup of ice, looked me dead in the eye and said “wait.”
Bianca: I see.
\
Enid: Hey, Tyler, can you help me carry this box?
Tyler: *Carrying the box effortlessly* Nothing is heavier than the weight of my internal torment.
Enid: I’m impressed but also concerned.
/
Enid: is something burning?
Ajax: just my love for you
Enid: Ajax, the toaster is on fire
\
Wednesday: Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Enid: That doesn't narrow it down.
/
Xavier, to Bianca: Can you believe some people see Wednesday and aren’t immediately filled with absolute unconditional love for her?
Xavier: They don’t even get the urge to kiss her right there.
Xavier: That’s incomprehensible to me.
Bianca, drinking her third shot of whiskey: Yeah, we got it like 3 hours ago, Xavier.
\
Tyler: the moon looks beautiful, doesn’t it?
Enid: hm.. but do you know what’s more beautiful?
Tyler and Enid in unison: Wednesday.
/
Yoko narrating: This is Wednesday. Wednesday loves his personal space.
Yoko: This is Enid. Enid also loves Wednesday’s personal space.
\
Wednesday: I love murder mysteries.
Tyler, trying to impress her: I've been a suspect in four murder cases!
/
Xavier: Two years ago, I married my best friend.
Xavier: Enid and Wednesday are still mad about it, but me and Ajax were drunk and thought it was funny.
\
Wednesday: when I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case?
Bianca: what?
Wednesday: I wanna be on buzzfeed unsolved.
Bianca: can we go back the part where you said "when I get murdered"?
/
Wednesday: What the fuck is wrong with you??
Tyler: What? No good morning?
Wednesday: Good morning, what the fuck is wrong with you??
\
Ajax: are these brownies…special?
Enid: they are
[later]
Ajax: i don't feel anything, are you sure there's weed in the brownies?
Enid: they are special because i made them with love, you little shit
/
Wednesday: You kill people for money?!
Tyler: I can explain!
Wednesday: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump?!
\
Bianca, holding up an antique bottle: Do you think this is whiskey or perfume?
Ajax: *Grabs and chugs the entire bottle*
Ajax:
Ajax: Definitely perfume
/
Wednesday: I'm starting to reach the point at which even I don't know if I'm sarcastic or not.
\
Enid: Don’t climb on the table! It’s unstable.
Yoko: I'm unstable too it's gonna cancel out. Pemdas.
Enid:
Enid: THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS.
/
Wednesday: i didn’t mean to offend you.. but it was a huge plus.
Xavier: isn’t your dad a literal murderer?
Wednesday: what? are you upset that my dad spent eight years looking for me while yours doesn't even know you exist?
Xavier:
Enid:
the whole room:
\
Tyler: You use sarcasm to distance yourself from people.
Wednesday: And yet, you’re still here.
/
Wednesday:
Tyler:
Wednesday:
Tyler: ur talking mad shit for someone in kissing distance.
\
Enid: FLIRT BACK GODDAMNIT
Wednesday: HOW
/
Yoko: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?
\
Enid: You need to be nicer to people.
Wednesday: I am nice.
Enid: You just threatened to stab someone.
Wednesday: And I think it was pretty nice of me to give them a warning.
/
Enid: Did it hurt when you fell-
Tyler: From heaven? Hate to break it to you Enid but im in love with wednesday—
Enid: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.
Tyler: ...
Enid: You just laid there for 15 minutes
\
Wednesday: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.
Tyler:…
Xavier:…
Enid:…
/
Wednesday: I went B and E without you.
Thing, offended: You went to a bed and breakfast without me?
Wednesday: No, B and E--breaking and entering.
Thing, even more offended: WITHOUT ME?!
\
Xavier, throwing a coin into a fountain: I wish for world peace.
Wednesday, glaring as they throw one in too: I wish for world war.
/
Wednesday: Can you perform under pressure?
Xavier: No but I could take a stab at ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’
\
Enid: You call yourself my friend, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?
Tyler: Making four accounts.
Enid, tearing up: Really...?
/
*at a restaurant*
Enid: I’ll have the chef’s salad
Ajax: *whispering* Babe that’s so rude, just order your own
\
Bianca: Ah shit, I forgot.
Xavier: Forgot what?
Bianca: How do you expect me to answer that?
/
Eugene: *visibly upset*
Enid: Eugene, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.
\
Wednesday: Tyler, keep an eye on Xavier today. He’s going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.
Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see Xavier get punched.
Wednesday: Try again.
Tyler: I will stop Xavier from getting punched.
/
Enid: This is such a bad idea.
Tyler: Then why are you coming along?
Enid: One of us needs to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.
\
Bianca: What scares you the most?
Enid: Ghost.
Tyler: Loosing Wednesday.
Wednesday: The unstoppable marching of time that is slowly guiding us all towards an inevitable death.
Xavier:
Bianca:
Enid:
Ajax: Wednesday. I'm scared of Wednesday.
/
Wednesday tending to Tylers scratches: how would you rate your pain?
Tyler: zero stars. Would NOT recommend.
\
Wednesday: my mother taught me to think before i act.
Wednesday: …so if i smack the shit out of you, rest assured that i thought about it and am confident in my decision.
/
Xavier: Wednesday loves me. She just doesnt care for my general happiness or self-esteem.
\
Ajax: thank you, nature, for pre-slicing oranges for us. You didnt have to and you did anyway and that was cool of you
/
Wednesday: …enid, what are you doing?
Enid, standing on the couch: i live here too, y’know. i can stand wherever i want, thank you very much.
Wednesday:
Enid:
Wednesday:
Wednesday *sighing*: where’s the spider?
Enid: under the table.
\
Tyler: Why are you late?
Wednesday: A technical error occurred, causing an unexpectedly long bout of unconsciousness.
Tyler: You overslept?
Wednesday: I overslept.
/
Wednesday: *angrily presses Tyler against a wall* WHO IS YOUR MASTER?!
Tyler: ...
Tyler: Are we about to kiss-
\
[ After directly disobeying the principles orders ]
Wednesday: Anyone else have the weird urge to lecture themselves?
Wednesday, as Weems: Ms Addams, what do you think you are doing?
Weems, appearing from behind Wednesday: Ms Addams, what do you think you are doing?
Wednesday: I conjured her.
/
Wednesday: were you dropped on your head as a child?
Tyler: bold of you to assume I was even held
Wednesday:
Tyler:
Enid:
Enid: Tyler, we’ve talked about this
\\
Mkay thats it!! Y’all are eating these up and I enjoy making them so if u want more pls ask I will do so with the slightest excuse.
#yet again pushing my Tyler and enid besties agenda#im about to dedicate my entire account to that cause#also ajax and Xavier besties cause he needs more friends#also my Tyler and thing being besties#Tyler also needs more friends#GIVE THESE BOYS LESS TRAGEDY AND MORE LOVE AND SUPPORT PLS#also enid totally gives Tyler fashion advice#and he lets her dress him up and paint his nails#anyways#here are the actual tags#wednesday addams#tyler galpin#enid sinclair#xavier thorpe#ajax petropolus#bianca barclay#yoko tanaka#and others#wyler#wenclair#wavier#still weird to put all three next to each other#ajax x enid#wednesday netflix
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☆ the hawthorne brothers+ avery, max, libby, rebecca, and thea during the eras tour ☆
a/n: co-written by @nutellani and i. this was originally just going to be stored in my notes app because i had a big brain thought but then i decided that tumblr doesn't have enough tig content and i needed to help change that. i got stumped on a few things, so i of course asked my lovely mutual nova for some assistance <3 (tysm!!)
aaaanway, enough about that, here you go:
they obvi went to the concert in texas. they probably got tickets for both arlington and houston bc rich people yk
nash wore a sparkly cowboy hat and so did libby
(idc what you say, in my head, he likes glitter and i will stand on that hill)
in fact they all wore sparkly cowboy hats (xander forced grayson), but nash and libby's were matching
grayson ofc is wearing all black, very rep era but he's secretly a lover girl at heart. he also likes midnights because let's face it- who doesn't??
but everyone convinced him to get his jacket embroidered with "ts" and a few snakes along the sleeves and back to pull together the whole rep look
i don't think i finished talking about nash and libby?? anyway, matching sequin cowboy hats, nash wore a flannel with patches from different albums
him and libby spent a whole night designing it
libby wore a tee shirt from the midnights album
and the night before, nash and libby painted her favorite lyrics on some black cargo pants and some cute lil doodles
nash totally wrote N+L on one of the pockets inside a big red heart because i said so
very cute couple moment
thea is in her rep era because she's a badass so she wore all black with some maroon to make her outfit pop, she got her nails done and everything
girl was drop dead gorgeous
rebecca went with a more simplistic look, lavender flowly dress just under the knee, with a cardigan. yes, the cardigan. rebecca gives off very mellow and soft vibes so i think that's why she went with an evermore themed outfit
now, onto avery. i think her favorite albums is midnights and rep because of the vibe of the songs and overall it is just SO HER and i feel like she wore a shirt with the midnights album cover on it. she also wrote her favorite lyrics from the album on the front of the shirt with a fabric pen or something of the sort. i can also see her wearing a rep outfit too tho!! she is rich so since she could go to two concerts and wear both outfits ig lol
jameson is a total swiftie!! xander is too but we'll get to that next this boy would really like 1989 and a good handful of songs from lover because they remind him of avery
he would wear something 1989 themed but also something sorta flashy, i think
now moving onto max
she for sure loves the love triangle in folklore/evermore but also enjoys midnights
she radiates night owl energy because she'll stay up until 4am to finish a really good plot twisty dark romance novel and the whole track (midnights 3am edition) reminds her of her favorite ships. she makes edits and you can't convince me otherwise. although max does love evermore, she would totally love speak now era taylor and therefore would wear that really pretty purple sparky dress on the album cover!!
xander totally bought it for her
and with max looking like a literal princess, he would be mad blushing
and when he snaps out of his daze, he would tell her how pretty she is because let's face it- max is beautiful
now, as mentioned before, xander is a hardcore swiftie and i will always think this
he is a lover lover, so definitely went with a hat of the colors on the album
totally bitch-slapped toxic masculinity in the face by wearing pretty pastels
and definitely had the jacket from the yntcd MV!!
their favorite eras (and moments i suppose) on tour:
nash: debut, fearless
we love his nomad cowboy vibes
he also definitely vibes along with whatever libby likes too because he's down bad-
anyway
grayson: red
definitely shed a few tears during all too well ten minute version even though he tried to hide it
cus it reminded him of emily
i hate her with a passion
this isn't about her though
he loved the song and performance for 22 since he's in his 20's and his family is always telling him to loosen up
attending this concert definitely helped him
jameson: 1989
screaming along to style for sure!! me and nova were talking a bit about how he fits the description-
Exhibit A, "you got that James Dean daydream look in your eyes" is so him!!
Exhibit B, because i said so
me and nova totally weren't fangirling over this, i have no idea what you're talking about-
xander: lover
xander fs would start dancing with max and singing softly when taylor sang lover
and nash caught it all on camera
such a cute candid moment
i love xander+max with everything in me
libby: midnights
more specifically, WCS because she could relate to "give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"
fuck drake
i know that she wasn't a teen when they were in a relationship but she was still young, and he was toxic asf
aaaanyway, she would also love when tay performed vigilante shit
tay slayed so hard (i had to tell myself to turn down the gay because my mom and sister were at the concert with me lmao)
everyone felt things when taylor did that performance, to say the least
ik thea and practically everyone else would be in awe~
thea: reputation
would scream along to don't blame me
and she would sound amazing because there's nothing she can't do bffr
and rebecca would be like "damn how'd i get so lucky"
thea would also love karma from midnights because i feel like she's the type of person to not give af about other people and their opinions cus she knows that bad things are coming their way
"me and karma vibe like that" is so her
but she could also shit talk and stand her ground (and also fight)
i also think that that one part of don't blame me, "don't blame me, love made me crazy if it doesn't, you ain't doing it right" and "my drug is my baby" she would sing while making eye contact with rebecca
rebecca: evermore (and folklore obvi)
she would sing and sway softly and thea would take such a beautiful candid photo of her while she sings aksjaja
and when cardigan plays, she would grab thea's hand and dance with her, foreheads touching
this time, xander would take a photo of them like that and it becomes thea's homescreen
thea would also love champagne problems omfg-
rep gf x evermore gf is such a cute dynamic and they slayed so hard
and nowww avery: rep and also midnights!!
would love getaway car with a PASSION
it's just so her <33
"you were driving the getaway car" is very averyjameson even tho the rest of the lyrics aren't lol
she would love mastermind and especially the lyrics "you knew that im a mastermind and now you're mine"
and Paris!!
both songs are so averyjameson coded
"im so in love i might stop breathing drew a map on your bedroom ceiling" and "no i didn't see the news cause we were somewhere else" ajdjjahd
it's THEIR song and i will defend that till the day i die
bonus: i almost forgot to include oren and alisa, im so sorry, im very sleepy!! anyway, oren refuses to wear anything other than his usual attire meanwhile this concert is one ofbthe very few instances where you see alisa in casual clothes. not many people know (other than the hawthornes of course) that she's a swiftie because she always acts so professional. she wears that one red letters shirt that says "who's taylor swift, anyway? ew." and everyone does a double take cus she also has her hair down and doesn't look formal lmao. during some songs avery looks over her shoulder and swears she could see oren have the slightest smile and head-bumping along to the music.
to wrap it all up, they would ALL HAVE THE NUMBER 13 PAINTED ON THEIR HANDS IN DIFFERENT COLORS AND FONTS!!
and also a little extra because me and nova were having big brain moments and i HAVE to include it, it would be a crime if i didn't
They would all scream to paper rings but guess what else?? a PROPOSAL!!
my nashlibby brainrot needed to be included even more:
"i love shiny things but id marry you with paper rings" is so them because even tho they're rich, they value the little things <3
libby is so into the performance, it takes her a minute to realize that the stage screen is on her
she's confused because why would the cameras be on her??
and then taylor would point just behind her to where nash was on one knee
the ring wasn't shiny, it was literally a paper ring
nash didn't have a full on speech planned out
but of course libby would say yes
they kiss, it's on the big screen and everyone (taylor, backup dancers, everyone) cheers
it was caught on camera by practically everyone which leads to their engagement going viral all over tik tok and other media platforms!!
after the concert, back at Hawthorne House, they made a resin/epoxy(i think that's what it's called) mold to preserve the ring, and keep it from getting damaged
and the end because not only can i not think of anything else, but it's 4am while i save this to my drafts-
p.s. huge thank you again to @nutellani, you helped me with this so much when i was having a brain block. you have wonderful input, and i owe you big time!!
(majority of how we got more ideas was thru incoherent fangirling over taylor and tig haha)
#tig#the inheritance games#nash hawthorne#grayson hawthorne#jameson hawthorne#xander hawthorne#avery grambs#avery kylie grambs#max liu#maxine liu#libby grambs#thea calligaris#rebecca laughlin#nashlibby#averyjameson#the hawthorne brothers#jennifer lynn barnes#books#taylor swift#the eras tour#booklr#fic#fanfic#the inheritance games fic#tig fic
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DO THOU HAVE ANY TBHK HEADCANONS (ship or not)
ALR ALR SO
Nene:
she paints hanako’s nails
mitsukou’s #1 fan
she gives the WORST love advice ever
she writes poetry
she writes fanfiction (it would be funny if she wrote mstk fanfics)
her and tiara are literally besties, nene gave tiara a little box of stationary and letters so tiara could write her letters
she’s 100% unaware when ANYBODY likes her, even when they’re being really obvious
SHES A GOOD OMENS FAN AND SOBBED FOR DAYS AFTER THE ENDING
Mitsuba and her have little meet ups where they do eachothers makeup
mitsuba:
#1 mitski fan
his library is FULL of angsty playlists (usually kou themed)
his library is also full of cute romantic playlists (usually made by kou)
he pierced his ear himself then it got infected and he missed school and kou showed up to his house like wtf man are you stupid
MITSUBA IS A THEATER KID AND KOU GOES TO SEE ALL HIS SHOWS CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE
He’s obsessed with the Barbie movie
he watches kou from every possible mirror he can
ALSO A GOOD OMENS FAN HE IS OBSESSED WITH THE SERIES AND IN LOVE WITH CROWLEY
kou:
if there was a mitsukou vampire au KOU WOULD BE THE VAMPIRE (help this thought won’t leave me alone)
kou has made mitsuba themed cookies (decorated with camera sprinkles, sparkles, little edible sequins that look like mirrors)
he has a family game night every Saturday night with teru and tiara
he’s very like musical? Ig? Like he REALLY likes music
He’s a maneskin fan (which shocked everybody bc he’s so innocent)
he’s the winner of the “running away from feelings” race
Took him a REALLY long time to realize he likes mitsuba
he figured out he only likes nene in a platonic way after seeing her with hanako after the picture perfect arc (don’t get me wrong kounene is adorable I just prefer platonic!)
He REALLY likes conan grey and olivia Rodrigo-like he SCREAMS the songs when he’s alone (and does little dances lol)
he replaced the traffic earring with a little gem stud for one day and mitsuba nearly fainted
OK THATS ALL I CAN THINK OF RN BUT I HAVE MORE THANK YOU FOR THE ASK IT MADE ME SO HAPPY
also I really hope we see mitsuba and kou in this clock keepers arc 😭 I’m going insane
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hehe hiii bex, been a while
might be a weird question lol
But what emojis do u associate new dream with, specifically with Eugene!!? I know we use ☀️ for Rapunzel
I’ve seen people using emojis to associate their ship all the time and was wondering if New Dream had a set ❤️
Hey, Sea! Good to hear from you!
You know, Eugene is a tough little bugger to emojify. It's difficult for me to even come up with imagery that suits him that isn't just... a wanted poster and his satchel. My sister likes to make Christmas ornaments using those satin balls with the foam core and adding trims and sequins to suggest a character. She's made me two Rapunzel ones over the years, but hasn't been able to come up with a satisfactory design for Eugene.
Rapunzel's imagery is easy: the sun symbol, purple and gold/yellow, the flower...
Anyway if I want to indicate New Dream as a couple, I tend towards:
💜🏮💙
because that is the only lantern in the emoji set, even though it's not that kind of lantern.
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Rarepair Tag Game
Thanks for the tag @merlins-sequined-hotpants .Given that my OTP is a rarepair that is slowly gaining popularity, I'm just going to use this to rec fics, because I apparently can be convinced of anything if I enjoy the writing:
Flying Lessons by @phantomato
Andromeda/Hooch, post-war. A one-shot from first person POV - Andromeda here is deliciously sharp and cutting ('Ted liked that I was mean'), and this piece is an incisive look into her fears, grief and healing.
Empire Builders by shecrows
James/Sirius. The Prongsfoot fandom lost their minds over this fic and rightly so. The fic captures the toxic tenderness of two codependent teenagers, who are figuring it out but want to get this right. There is such deep love between them and the fic reached a place deep inside me.
Bookbinding by @saintsenara
Tom/Myrtle. A romantic comedy with Tom Riddle and Moaning Myrtle. Funny, fluffy, moving - all at once. And also provides the steady assurance that you can annoy your love interest into falling in love with you. Thanks for the lesson, Myrtle. I am a #changed woman.
Regretfully Yours by @maria-de-salinas
Petunia/Snape! Maria writes them with such history and familiarity and I was immediately onboard the ship. These are two people who know each other from the time of their old accents, and she draws out their grief and sameness so tenderly. This also has a sequel that I cant wait to start reading!
in another life by @broomsticks
Peter/Bertha. Ever since I read GOF, I wondered why we didn't get more of Peter and Bertha Jorkins who apparently went on a walk with him to the forest for hookup. Anyway, Jackie delivered with this drabble and I love how she used disparate elements of canon and pulled them together.
sore subject by @incalculablepower
Parvati Patil/Demelza Robbins. Parvati Patil/ Lavendar Brown. No one does the chaotic rom com vibe of HBP - confusion,denial, bubbling attraction - better than incalculable power.
knotweed by @turanga4
Sprout/Pomphrey. Quiet, steady, contemplative - there is this quality of wisdom and maturity than runs through turanga's fics and it lends beautifully to pair of women in the last year of war.
a wilder beast from West than all were by eldritcher
Andromeda/Rufus Scrimgeour. Glorious, glorious myth breaking and social commentary all at once. Obsessed with this piece. (eldritcher can convince me of anything, even Snape/giant squid and yes there is a wonderful meditative Snape/giant squid as part of their work)
Till We have Faces by TeddieJean
Andromeda/Rodolphus. I wanted something done with twin imagery of Bellatrix and Andromeda and how that affects identity..and I got it all baked underneath this oneshot.
Three Knocks on Door by lunatik_pandora
Lily Potter/Nymphadora Tonks. Dark, grotesque, funny - there is so much in this fic. A very hypnotic Lily and a Tonks who senses the danger and runs towards it anyway.
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palisade 28!
first of all, the intro—loved it. honoring black screen, reclaiming rhythm, acknowledging that post-combustor it still doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but pushing forward anyway… (also i am so curious about this pirate rap station. who are the other hosts?? what are their shows like??)
i know the particular game of the interview scene was that brnine couldn’t gain any rhetorical ground, but ali absolutely slayed. incredible rp. truly a horrifying situation and brnine still landed some fantastic lines.
also want to make some sort of comparison to fever-dream and nightmare sequences—not quite sure what to call it, but i’m thinking of the kind of scene where a delirious character seems to hallucinate old arguments. coming under judgment, past and present blurring. (and how do we understand what it means to leave palisade?)
“stolen cameo” is a cool ship name but it became much funnier when it was revealed that they had kidnapped brnine to put them on tv
the question i had during that sequence was what’s asepsis doing while brnine’s in prison, and by the end of the episode i still had that question but even more so. what… the fuck! (also, didn’t brnine have some drones with them? does asepsis know where they are???)
eclectic opposition is The keith character name lmao. that’s just all of them already
jokes aside this character rips and i’m so excited for more terrible sleuth energy. black sequined poncho. “eclectic, and easily.” i have such a soft spot for noir aesthetics pasted over another genre. also very excited to dig into why all these hooks are “leap says”.
brief reflection on crew dynamics in brnine’s absence: figure stepped up, thisbe stepped in. which is really cool to see for both of them. figure took the lead in the scene and called the meeting to order, which really speaks to their freedom and confidence post-clem. thisbe didn’t do that, despite being technically in command, but she redirected the conversational dynamic in the way brnine might’ve tried to (her telling cori that vaping is bad for you is maybe my new favorite thisbe line… okay, no, it’s still second to “spoilers, corn is a grass”, but it’s up there.)
really excited for figure’s plotline! talking to gur, seeing ghosts everywhere, bringing partial palisade onboard—they’ve leveled up and i’m so here for it. (also thinking about the past bleeding into the present, or maybe it’s better to understand that as a sort of recognition of continuity—same people, only changed. (which appeared a few times in this episode.) anyway, no new life can free you from your past, etc etc.)
also: partial palisade!!!! coming back onscreen!!!!!! we LOVE to see it
my main feeling after the latest faction turn was that somehow, post-combustor, nothing had actually changed. the blue channel got a huge win! the hugest! and then the cause went directly back to reacting to (and losing to) the authority, rather than actually making moves (cf outro of 25). i’m hoping we see more of a shift on the blue channel side, at least—it seems like the table is still set for that. having partial palisade on board could be really powerful (plotwise/thematically but maybe also mechanically). who knows—things could take a while to develop. (but also let’s drop another pillar!!!)
#fatt#palisade#palisade spoilers#hello world#fatt lb#hello we’re sneaking out of the woods a day early :)
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@etoilebleu
Mists cling to mesosphere, thin as morning draperies. Clouds are like flotsam, floating in wind, while jellies of various genera suckle the edges of an Upsilon-class command shuttle’s posterior windows. When Inuja surfaces beneath its occupants’ roving eyes, each of indeterminate origin, her garden of marble Eden is no more a disc than a first shadow is the night. She blooms with frost-hued suns, and offers up for her unheralded visitors her sequins of architectural fantasy. There are gods who have not spoken so elegantly.
Ren gives himself over to looking as if rousing himself from a dream: he once saw such a place through youth’s eyes.
Now, that place has died with the youth and his memory. Hanging mists and flotsam clouds disperse as darkness descends; white temples, still steepled in the old ways of easy, nurturing faith, have gone to gray, and stand instead upon the shoulders of time-eaten mountains. The only dawn here is the First Order’s awakening age. The deep, predatory rumble of Inuja’s anchoring visitor.
“Something to look at,” the one they call Machaera—“weapon,” simple and crude, cruel in that way only ignorants can be—murmurs from his window, the shuttle’s belly. He is not the murmuring kind, his is a violent presence, his brawn instates this clearly. But he is surfacing on the edges of an evolution, exquisite detail of melee and musculature that he is; so he murmurs all the same.
Across Machaera, the Axis’ helm glistens. Her’s is an uninterrupted glaze of indeterminate black material, wrapping down around her skull. Perhaps it seeps down between her ultrachrome collar and flesh—whatever flesh hers is—and braids with her skeleton.
“You should’ve called on Surri,” she says. Ren tastes the brine of her disgust wherever it rains: Down on this nest of vipers—politicians—she perceives. And, perhaps, on him.
He affords her no true answer. They both know the Ren has called Surri-diae to meet other ends. Instead, Ren lifts his helm to the shuttle’s frontal cortex as he comes to. As gravity skips along the vessel’s chromium-plated plumonodes like Salix fronds. As the command shuttle raises its Upsilon wings, and finds its rhythm in the pressurized air fields—indiscernible, lulling teeth of the Inujan Royal aerodrome—below.
The helm’s apparatuses click. Some darker, deeper rhythm, an otherly pressure sliding into place. His timbre is of kinds bred for heralding nightfall. Displace dawn with decay. Within it now holds at once flat derision, and discomfiting tenderness.
“Diae is not the sole deceiver among us,” Ren responds. “Take her place.”
***
To the outer witness, the command shuttle’s landing may well look like a claiming of grounds. The way black laminasteel kisses marble floors is no kiss between lovers: it’s violent, domineering. It dispenses all pretense of greeting as effusively as it throws up dirt and grass off the landing aisle’s cliff-borne sides. When the dust settles, the thing tosses a final breath to uneasy winds before retracting. All what remains is pregnant silence.
This is no precursor. There is no message in the Upsilon’s sheathed winds. This is nothing out of an Order officer’s repertoire. This smells more like death, extending its digits. Feel out the textures writ before it like brail.
Mechanical voice coughs from ship’s hatch. A slender mount descends, black and unspooling, a tongue stamped in soot and lead. Steam, layering the mist.
The Ren sift free, like inverted fireflies.
They emerge as one, two do not linger behind the first. A singular sort of matrimony outlines their gradations of movement. But he who stands central, and tallest between them—whose powerful gait is limned with prowling deliberation—could not be more palpably the head of whatever body he thus commands, than in his present silence.
Unmoving, Ren probes each of them; this reception come to greet his augural company on their precious, ancient prow. The two others wait at his sides, unwavering as their purpose. They’ll be doing the same.
When he does draw forth, he speaks more to the dusk mist than to its people: “Who among you serves as Inuja’s noble crown?”
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Glitter
Title: “Glitter”
Ship: Deanoru (Love).
Word count: 507 words.
Rating: Teen.
Square: O3 “Sequins/Glitter”.
Summary: Karolina loves glitter, Nico doesn’t.
Warnings/Tags: Glitter, fluff, femslash.
A/N: This is my entry to @marvelrarepairbingo @marvelrarepairs MarvelRarePair Bingo Round 2 2023. Annie MRP-066.
You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.
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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
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It was another quiet night at the hostel. Nico and Karolina were in the latter's room. They were cuddled up in bed, sharing secrets and laughter, when Karolina started talking about her love for glitter.
“You know, Nico," Karolina said with a huge smile on her face, attracting Nico's attention. “I really love glitter. It makes me feel full of magic and life. I love how it sparkles and how I can spread it all over the place. It's like I'm bringing a little bit of joy and light wherever I go.
Nico looked at her fondly, admiring the passion and excitement in Karolina's eyes. Although she herself was not as fanatical about glitter as Karolina, she understood how important it was to her; maybe that's why she had fallen in love with it; they were complete opposites.
“Karolina," Nico called to her softly, gently stroking Karolina's arm. "I couldn't help but notice how you look when you use your powers. It's as if you are surrounded by an aura of beauty and power. I love how your eyes sparkle with that special light and how your hair moves gracefully when you channel your energy. You really are beautiful; whether you use your powers or not, you really are like a princess.
Karolina smiled shyly. Never before had anyone expressed to her in that way how special she was to her when she used her powers; she even came to think she was too strange until... until they found out everything, but still, no one else changed her appearance so much when she used her powers.
“You're amazing, and I'm grateful to have you by my side,” Karolina said.
Both girls hugged each other tenderly.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a flash of bright light enveloped the room, illuminating their faces with a warm, magical glow. They both looked at each other in awe, unable to believe what they were witnessing.
Suddenly, a dimensional portal opened in front of them. Nico approached carefully, gripping the staff firmly, sensing no danger. She conjured a spell to reveal if there were any enemies or anything that could harm them.
The spell revealed that the portal was safe. Nico and Karolina held hands and crossed the threshold.
The place was a beautiful field, as the two had once dreamed of. They began to explore it; it really was a safe place; perhaps they had found their special place.
Sometimes they would snuggle in the grass, sharing secrets and laughter under the glow of the stars.
That field became their refuge, a place where they could be free and authentic. They spent hours exploring together, enjoying each other's company, and creating unforgettable memories. Ultimately, it would be their secret; no one else would know about it, even though they didn't know how they had found it or if anyone had sent it to them.
What they liked the most were the nights when glitter fell from the sky; they were not stars, but the field ended up shining, and they started dancing.
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